


Book 1: Lights and Lacunae

by chipsNdeSalsa



Series: The Boy He Failed [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreams and Nightmares, Hogwarts, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25925812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipsNdeSalsa/pseuds/chipsNdeSalsa
Summary: What if a young Tom Riddle was haunted by nightmares of the evils he would commit to gain power and immortality? Further, what if Albus had taken the time to care for and teach him? This story takes place between 1938 and 1945. As a new writer, I would love to hear your thoughts on this project.  Book 2 is back and will be regularly updated on Saturdays. If you like it, or don't and want to say something, leave a review. Good or bad, I like hearing people's opinions on my work.
Series: The Boy He Failed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881514
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue: Eve of the Heir

This is not the story of a boy raised under a staircase, ascending to Master of Death. This story begins on December 31st, 1926, and young Merope Riddle is desperately searching the streets of London for a place to give birth. Her ragged appearance was enough for two halfway homes and one muggle hospital to turn her away and slam their doors in her face. The body odor seeping into her clothes and blankets scared off a wiry fox terrier dragging along a young boy with coal stains over his body. She was used to rejection. Her own family scorned her the moment she fell in love with the rich boy from up the hill. Her husband abandoned her the moment he saw her true nature. Yet, she endured for the sake of her child.

The one thing keeping her going was a simple thought, "St. Mungo's is not far," which she repeated in her head over and over as she stumbled her way down the streets of the Lambeth neighborhood. As her contractions grew more frequent and she was barely walking with the support of metal fencing on her right side. Step by step, she begged, "Tom, oh Tom, I'm so sorry! Please, Tom. Come back to me. I can't do this alone!"

Despite the number of people she passed or slipped on ice in front of, not one stopped to help or give her pity. On this foggy night, the people of London did not care for the cock-eyed young woman wearing 3 tattered blankets and a torn nightgown. One couple did stop to stare, but when their son complained about her smell, they took the coins he hesitantly held back and pushed on through the fog. Merope mumbled to herself, "Filthy muggles. Don't think your arse's don't stink too. Maybe London isn't for us, Tom. No, I think the country is where our boy will grow, away from this filth. And this blasted fog. This…"

Another contraction racked her body, and she nearly hit the cobble as she slipped on black ice, only catching herself with a wild grasp at the metal gates. After a minute of silent weeping, she attempted to hide her face in the brick pillar to her right as a faint light appeared in the fog. Her body illuminated as the light's source, a small black walnut wand held by a woman not much older than Merope, taps her on the shoulder. Merope lurched away from the tapper, who lost grip of her wand, and the light snuffed out as the wand bounced off the cobbled sidewalk. Merope glanced with one eye to the wand, then up to the woman's cloaked, unknown face, and back down to the wand. With a quick move, she seized it off the ground before the woman could react. While still cowering against the brick wall, she tried once, twice, three times to cast a light spell before screeching, "LUMOS MAXIMA!" and despite the dense fog, a blinding flash of light burst from the wand. The young woman recoiled and tripped over the edge of the sidewalk and onto the road. She hastily scooted away from Merope, though still staying close enough to see Merope now pointing the wand at her face.

Yet another contraction hit Merope like a train and she fumbled with the wand, giving the woman the perfect moment to jump up and take the wand back. She pointed the wand down at Merope, hesitating against her instinct to stun the woman and walk away, and finally lowered it to say, "I thought you were a muggle. Are you alright? If you're in pain, I can take you to…"

Merope screamed in pain and frustration at the woman before yelling, "LEAVE ME BE, you bitch!" She whimpered and trembled in the pillar's corner again as the pain of the contraction subsided.

The woman, pulling her cloak closer to her body, frowned, tucked her wand back into a pocket in her cloak, grunted, "Fine. Suit yourself, mott," and disapparated with a loud crack.

Merope mumbles to herself, "We don't need her, do we Tom?" before slowly returning to her feet and stumbling forward.

The snow continued to come down in droves as Merope, despite having two more knee-buckling contractions on the way, made it two more blocks before finally collapsing in front of a large gate and into a small mound of snow. Groaning, she slid off it and leaned herself against one of the brick pillars beside the gate. When she looked up, pulling back one of the many blankets she had draped over herself, she saw Wool's Orphanage written into the bars of a gothic-iron gate. Looking inside, she saw a short runway for the gate and then a small set of stairs leading up to a gothic building with a large pediment in the front and a bell tower reaching up over the building, just visible through the fog. There is no light behind its considerable windows nor on the landing of the stairs. Glancing back down at her covered belly, Merope muttered, "I don't think I'm gonna make it to St. Mungo's, Tom. It hurts too much and I don't think our baby can make it much further either. I'm sorry."

Steeling herself and breathing heavily, she called out, "Somebody… please, help me! I'm pregnant… and I… I don't… I don't know how much further I can go. Please, just save my baby!" Through the fog and snow, a young family hurried past, led by a mustachioed man in a 3 piece grey suit. Before vanishing into the fog, the young daughter of the family pulled against her mother's grip, holding out a few coins which clatter to the ground a few meters away from Merope as the mother gave one last tug.

Merope crawled over on her hands and knees, scratching the coins into her palm. As she scooted back to the wall next to the gate, she looked down and amidst the unknown silver coins was a single gold coin that caught her eye. On one side was an effigy of a man with a thick handlebar mustache and short hair, surrounded by Latins words in the legend. Merope gave a weak chuckle as she turned it over to see a caped man on horseback trampling a dragon. She muttered, "Muggles. If only it were so easy."

Another contraction doubled her over, face-first into the snow beside the wall. Merope let out a small yelp before sitting back up to gaze at the limp chain holding the two parts of the gate together in a simple knot. Straining her body, she attempted to reach up to the dangling end of the chain but coiled back up as frigid winds and snow buffeted her against the even colder bricks. When the gust calmed, she tried again, her fingers lightly swaying the chain before she extended her arm and yanked the chain down. The knot unfurled and dropped with a light thud into the snow and she pulled it out from under the gate. After scooting to the gate's middle, she slowly stood and with great effort, lifted the iron cane bolt out of the ground.

As she yawned while opening the gate, yet another contraction knocked the wind out of Merope, sending her once more to her knees. For nearly a minute, her labored breaths sent waves of clouds into the cracked cobblestone sidewalk. When she attempted to stand and push against the gate again, the cane bolt screeched against the pavement and stopped short of a small set of stone stairs. Bordering the pavement on both sides were small patches of unkempt grass and a lone wagon with a missing wheel still visible under the snow.

Using one hand to hold her stomach and the other to brace against the stairs, she slowly climbed up as the main door to the building and the porchlight flickered on. Two women in long, ragged sleeping gowns and white aprons peeked out the door and gasped when they saw Merope clawing her way up the stairs. The younger, with a wavy bob haircut, hurried forward to help Merope up. The other, far older and wearing a sleeping cap, grasped the rosary around her neck and muttered a prayer under her breath before hurrying back inside. As Merope slowly climbed the short steps, the younger woman continued to brace her and said, "Oh, my dear. My dear, what are you doing out so late in the freezing fog?"

Merope breathed heavily a couple of times before muttering, "My baby… please save my baby. I have some… I have money…" She reached underneath her blankets and into a loose pocket on her tattered gown to pull out the gold Sovereign the young girl dropped earlier. She reached into another deep pocket and brought forth a handful of bronze and silver coins that made the younger woman raise her eyebrow. Desperately trying to place it in the young woman's hand, she continued, "Please… Just take it. I… It's all I have left... My husband has more if you... Please, my baby..."

As soon as Merope said baby, the young woman knelt to close Merope's hand on the coin and replied, "No need, my dear," and then pulled them both further up the steps and through the agape door into Wool's Orphanage. The hallway inside was dimly lit with a mixture of candlelight and electric bulbs, one of which flickered until the older woman waiting by a room to the left tapped it with her left hand and it stabilized. As she walked forward, she took Merope's other arm and told the younger woman in a slight Irish accent, "Ms. Cole, please go fetch us some water and fresh linens while I take…" She paused for a moment to gently place a hand on Merope's face and looked into her slightly cocked, dark brown eyes as she asked, "What's your name, dearie? Mine is Ms. O'Shea, Delia O'Shea."

Merope focused on Ms. O'Shea's face for a moment before looking back down to her stomach and said with pain, "Riddle, Merope Riddle. Please, Ms. O'Shea, save my baby. Please."

After entering the small, well-lit room to the left, which had a small, elevated bed and a bedside table with medical supplies on top, Ms. O'Shea laid Merope down on the bed and walked over to a large sink to wash her hands. Over the sound of the water, she asked, "So, where's the father, Ms. Riddle? Or did he make a bag and abandon yuh'? You're narry the first bird to come here alone, this bein' an orphanage. Old Mr. Wool… died a ways back he did, left this place in his will to be set up as a place for young kids without parents to grow up nice and proper. O'course, didn't leave much to run the place so we're not the finest establishment. But we make do." After she finished washing her hands and turned around to dry them off with a towel hanging on a hook, Merope sat up to answer, "No, no, Mr. Riddle… My husband is waiting at his parents'. Good boy he is, went back to take care of his sick mother. I stayed in London to find a house for us and our baby but I started going into labor on my way home. No one else would take me in, damn muggles."

Ms. O'Shea cocked her head for a moment, but brushed off the unknown insult as she walked to the door, peered out, and said just loud enough for Merope to hear, "Now where's that lass got off to? Pump is just outside …"

Just as she said this, Ms. Cole hurried into the room with her arms overfilled with clean, white linens and her hands clutching a splashing bucket of water. Ms. O'Shea took the towels and hung them on the end of the wire bed frame as Ms. Cole set the bucket down next to the bed and said out of breath, "Apologies, Ms. O'Shea. Pump outside is freezing up so I had to get some from the showers down the hall. Figured warm water would do best here…"

Merope groaned in agony and both Ms. O'Shea and Ms. Cole rushed over to her and O'Shea asked, "How far apart are they, dear?" Merope grabbed both of their hands and squeezed hard. Ms. O'Shea met Merope's eyes and consoled, "Alright, let's get the lad or lass out of yuh. You'll be just fine."

Ms. Cole reacted by picking up a smaller cloth from the bed frame, dipped it in the water, and began to pat her head. Continuing to pat with the wet cloth, she asked, "We're gonna need to get you out of those layers, dear. Make it easier for us to get to the baby." She then helped Merope take off every layer of ragged blankets and makeshift scarves until all she wore was a ragged, sickly gray gown.

Ms. Cole recoiled for a moment at the wave of stench coming from Merope and Ms. O'Shea tapped her on the shoulder and muttered in her ear, "I thought this might be the case. Go get us some soap and a fresh candle." When Ms. Cole got up to fetch the soap, Ms. O'Shea said while preparing the medical tools on the bedside table, "Ms. Cole is gonna grab us some soap so I can get your lowers cleaned up a bit. Make it safer for the baby. How long have you been in London? Your accent sounds like you're from the country."

Merope, sweating a little now despite taking off her outer layers, mumbled her reply, "Not… not long. Mr. Riddle sent me here just a couple of days ago. It was hard to find a place to stay for me and the baby."

Ms. Cole returned with the soap and a few more cloths and Ms. O'Shea said, "Alright, lass, lift your legs a bit so I can see what we're working with. Ms. Cole, light please." Ms. O'Shea recoiled for a fraction of a second after looking under Merope's blouse but got right to cleaning the area for the birth. Ms. Cole returned to consoling and patting a wet cloth on Merope's forehead as Ms. O'Shea continued, "By George, you're near to popping, love. I think we're ready to get you pushing now. Ms. Cole, grab a hand. Ms. Riddle, don't be afraid to squeeze hard. Ms. Cole may look frail but she can take it. When we ask you to push, I want you to take 3 quick breaths and push with your abdomen as much as you can and then take a short break, alright dear?"

Merope, sweating profusely, grabbed Ms. Cole's hand with one and reached behind her to dig her grimy, long nails into the elevated head of the bed frame. Ms. O'Shea brought out the cloth she was using to clean Merope's undercarriage only to see a horrifying mix of blood, feces, and dirt covering the cloth. She tossed it into an empty bucket on the other side of the bed and grabbed a handful of the extras from the frame and shoved them underneath Merope's legs and butt. Grabbing Merope's other hand, Ms. O'Shea said, calmly, "Alright, Merope, give it a good shove. Clench your arse and let's get that baby out."

Merope screamed and gasped in pain as her legs shook and she gave her first painful push for a few seconds. When she finished, she collapsed back into her pillow and breathed heavy. Ms. O'Shea let her have a breather for a minute or so before getting her right back to pushing. This process, push and relax, push and relax, went on for half an hour before Ms. O'Shea finally said, "Alright, we've got the head and shoulders, just a few more pushes, love. Come on Ms. Riddle, you've got this."

After another few screamed-fill pushes, a blood-soaked baby finally emerged from Merope and onto the linens. Ms. O'Shea gently held the baby's head and neck as she beckoned Ms. Cole, "Alright, scissors, clamps, and forceps, Ms. Cole. Ms. Riddle, you've done…"

Ms. O'Shea stopped short as she looked down at the baby. Its dark eyes locked on hers and a sudden rush of cold flooded her, sending goose pimples up the back of her neck. The baby's chest rose and fell as it took quick breaths without breaking eye-contact. Ms. O'Shea looked down and back up to confirm with Merope, "You've done great Ms. Riddle. You've a little lad, here. Don't mind the lack of crying, it happens. Breathing is fine but…"

Both Ms. Cole and Ms. O'Shea gasped as they saw Merope's head tilt and go limp and bang against the wire back of the bed frame. Ms. Cole let go of Merope's hand, placed the back of her hand on her head, and looked to Ms. O'Shea to say, "She's gone hot. Too hot."

Ms. O'Shea quickly worked to cut the umbilical cord, clamp it off, and clean up the rest of the blood under Merope's gown. She wiped off the now crying baby boy and handed him off to Ms. Cole, who stood up to move out of the elder's way. When O'Shea felt for a pulse in Merope's forearm, it was becoming fainter by the second. She gently shook Merope and said, "Come on, girl, stay with us. You' haven't lost much blood. I've seen far worse and kept the girls from seein' Styx."

After a minute, Merope groggily came back to consciousness and asked, "Where…. Where's my baby? Where's my boy?" She looked up to Ms. Cole, who had been rocking the crying baby in her arms to calm it down. When Ms. Cole saw Merope had come back, she carefully knelt to bring the baby boy closer to his mother. Merope weakly brought up a hand to stroke the boy's face, whose eyes now locked with hers, and smiled as she weakly said, "Oh, a beautiful boy. He has his father's eyes. Oh, my Tom…"

Merope looked up to Ms. Cole and said, "Tom, that will be his name. After his wonderful father. Yes, Tom. And Marvolo, after my father. He must keep our line. Tom Marvolo Riddle."


	2. The Wardrobe

On a long, winding mix of cobble and paved roads walked a man of flamboyant attire and confident gait. Age has begun to show in his auburn hair, which fell to the purple, polka-dotted silk scarf draped over his shoulders. One hand reaching deep into a pair of plum velvet trousers that match his jacket, and the other toting a large, amethyst shaded fabric, he pulled forth a small silver pocket watch. Glancing down as he clicked it open, his eyes met each of the 12, equally spaced, yet differently colored circles, then each of the similarly colored hands until he focused on the two golden hands. One rested just to the right of a small indigo circle in the upper left-hand corner and the other just to the left of the fire-orange circle at the bottom of the clock's face. After clicking it closed with a smirk, he muttered, "Let's hope they have good tea," and continued on his way.

A few people glanced in confusion at his attire as he passed but he paid no mind, crossing the street to a large brick wall with iron railings on top without looking at the slow traffic of automobiles and a horse-drawn milk cart coming to the intersection. After going left at the brick wall, he continued down for a few blocks before coming to a stop in front of an open gate with the words Wool's Orphanage in iron letters towards the top. The man shaded his eyes for a moment as he glanced up at the bell-tower behind the main, gothic building and muttered, "Curious. Such beauty, yet such sadness. Very Curious." Unbeknownst to him as he rapped once on the door with his right hand, a young boy with parted black hair, dark green eyes, and wearing a dull gray tunic leered down from a circular window above the wide pediment.

The auburn-haired man waited a moment, two, before the door opened and standing in the hallway of a shabby, yet clean black and white tile was a scruffy girl in a lightly stained apron. She gave him a bewildered once-over before he answered, "Ah, yes. Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

The man began to slowly reach inside his breast pocket before the girl finally replied and he put his hand back in his pants pocket, "Oh, uhm... Just a mo'... MRS. COLE!", bellowing the last over her left shoulder. Hearing the echoing voice at the top of the stairs, the young boy from the window lightly walked across the wooden landing on the second floor to this time peer between the wooden balusters and listen.

Halfway down the tiled first-floor hallway, a woman said behind a half-closed door, "Be just a moment, Ruth got to the shears again."

The girl turned back to the man and said, "Come on in, she's on 'er way,'' leading him inside. Just before the door closed behind them, an older Mrs. Cole, now more skinny and haggard than in her youth, scurried toward them and said over her shoulder to no one in particular, "... and take the iodine upstairs to Martha. Billy Stubbs has been picking at his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets… chickenpox on top of everything else." The bones in her cheeks and chin were sharp but there was a look of simultaneous anxiety and kindness in her eyes. When she finally looked to the man, a brief moment of astonishment betrayed her.

Seeing this, the man raised his hand and said with a small smile, "Good afternoon, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I believe I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Still confused, Mrs. Cole blinked twice before replying feebly, "Oh. Yes… Well, you'd better come into my room. Yes. This way," turning around to lead him down the tiled hallway to the left of the dark-wooden staircase. Albus followed her into an equally shabby room on the left with mismatched furniture. Eyeing Albus nervously, Mrs. Cole invited him to sit on a rickety chair as she sat on her own behind a desk.

The young boy with dark green eyes from the wooden landing snuck down to the hallway and was now hiding just within earshot of Mrs. Cole's room as Albus began, "I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future." The skin on the back of the boy's neck immediately prickled up as he heard his name come from this unknown man.

"How could he… Does he know about my… No…. No, I was careful," the boy thought as he moved a little closer and accidentally creaked the chair he was barely sitting in.

"Are you family?" Mrs. Cole asked with a suspicious glance out the door before letting it go.

As if seeing Tom snooping through the wall, Albus smirked and gave a cursory glance at the wall, unnoticed by Mrs. Cole, before responding, "No. No, I am a teacher. I've come to offer young Tom a place at my school."

Mrs. Cole sat up a little straighter and retorted, "What school's this, then?"

Albus replied, "It is called Hogwarts."

"And how come you're interested in…in Tom?"

"We believe he has certain… qualities we are looking for. You see, he's quite…"

Mrs. Cole roughly set a hand on her desk and leaned forward to ask, "You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he? He's… he's never entered for one."

There is another, slightly louder creak from the other room as Tom leaned just too far in his chair and is forced to pull back. Albus, unfazed, replied as he lightly joined his hands in his lap, "Well, his name has been down for our school since birth…"

"...And who could have registered him? His parents?"

Albus squinted as he leaned forward and Tom just barely peeked his head around the corner of the doorframe, just enough to see inside the room. Realizing how inconveniently sharp Mrs. Cole was, and wishing he was at least offered a drink before this began, Albus reached into the same breast pocket of his suit, this time pulling out an ebony wand from it.

Picking up and placing a piece of blank paper before Mrs. Cole, he waved his wand over it once and said, "I think this will make everything clear." With a small jerk of his wand, two small glasses and a tall bottle of gin appeared from thin air on Mrs. Cole's desk. Tom's eyes immediately widened and he barely held in a gasp as he lurched back from the door frame and gathered himself against the wall.

Mrs. Cole's eyes rolled back for a moment before slowly sliding back into focus. She looked at the paper a little closer before calmly saying, "That seems perfectly in order. Uhm…" She glanced at the newly appeared gin and glasses and continued, "Would you… May I offer you a glass of gin?" perking her voice up a little at the end.

Beaming, Albus leaned forward to pour them both half-full glasses of clear liquid from the bottle. After a touchless cheers, Mrs. Cole knocked hers back in one gulp and smiled at Albus. Pressing his new advantage and leaning even farther forward, Albus inquired with a returned, albeit slightly sinister smile, "Now… I was wondering whether you could tell me anything about Tom Riddle's history? He was born here in the orphanage, yes?"

Tom heard this and once again peered back in, this time only one eye watching this man question the matron of the orphanage. Mrs. Cole, helping herself to another glass of gin, failed to hold in a small burp, and replied, "Excuse me. Yes, that's right. New Year's Eve, 1926. I had just started here myself. Nasty night, that was. Bitter cold, fog like a smoke room. And snowing. If not for the blasted fog, it would have been a nice night in London. This girl… name was… Muh… Mope-ee… something like that… not much older than myself at the time, staggers up the front steps. We took her in, bloody mess she was. Ms. O'Shea's hands smelled like her for a week… Anyway, she had the boy within the hour and was dead in another."

Tom, leaning hard into the brick wall outside the door frame, sank a little as his heart skipped a beat for a moment. "So… she didn't just leave me here," he thought to himself before peeking back in.

Albus nodded and asked, "Did she say anything before she died? Anything about his father, for instance?"

Now visibly tipsy and swirling her drink, Mrs. Cole replied, "I hope he looks like his papa, she says. I remember that much. I won't lie, it was good of her to wish for it because she was no beauty- Eyes all…" Mrs. Cole made a rude gesture with her fingers pointing in two disparate directions over her eyes. With a chuckle, she continued, "Then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, Marvolo, for her father… funny name, that… and his surname was to be Riddle after his father. And then she died. Not another word. We named him as she said, poor girl, she was. It didn't seem right to do otherwise. But no Tom, no Marvolo, nor any Riddles ever came to get him. No family at all. So, he's been here at ol' Wool's ever since."

After absentmindedly draining and then pouring yet another glass of gin, giving the bottle a quick shake, she narrowed her eyes a little before saying, "Funny boy, he is. Tom."

Albus, still lightly holding his untouched glass of gin and listening intently, replied, "Yes. I thought he might be."

Taking a healthy sip of her gin, Mrs. Cole continued, "He was a funny baby too. Normal babes can't see right after birth. But this one, gave the old matron the death glare right when he came out. Hardly ever cried either, except when his mom died there. Couldn't have known though, right? Too young. And then, you know, he got older and he was just… odd."

Both Albus and Tom leaned a little closer as the former asked with a raised eyebrow, "Odd? In what way?"

Just before she was about to answer, Mrs. Cole had a sober moment as she looked over her glass and into Albus's sparkling, electric blue eyes to ask, "You said… you're certain he's got a place at your school? This… Hogwarts?"

Albus matched her glare, nodded curtly, and responded, "Definitely."

"You'll be taking him away, whatever? Nothing I can say to change it?" she asked again, this time setting her glass down on the desk.

"None whatsoever."

After a brief, squinting assessment of Albus, Mrs. Cole leaned back in her chair, the glass of gin back in her hand, and said assertively, "He scares the other children."

Albus too leaned back, this time taking a small first sip of his glass, and asked, "You mean he is a bully?"

Frowning slightly, Mrs. Cole answered, "He must be. It's been tough to catch him at it… but there have been… incidents. Nasty, downright odd things." Not waiting for him to interject, she continued, "Billy Stubbs's rabbit. Tom says he didn't do it, but for the life of me I can't think of how a rabbit just hangs itself from the rafters, can you?"

Graveness invaded Albus's outward demeanor for a split second before he said, " No… No, I should think not."

Mrs. Cole continued after taking another hefty sip from her glass, "But then… I've no clue how the boy did it either. All we know is that he and Billy argued the day before… And THEN, on the summer outing- we go once a year to the seaside or countryside- anyway- Amy and Dennis went exploring with Tom and they found this cave offshore. Tom swears he just took them in to show them what he'd found but… well... Amy and Dennis weren't quite right afterward."

She paused for a moment to lean forward and said directly into Albus's eyes, "I doubt the children here would be sorry to see the back of him."

Albus, keeping her gaze, mentioned, "You must understand, he is not coming with me permanently. He will have to return here, for at least the summers. Hogwarts is not open to students for the summer term, as it is a much needed holiday for all teachers and staff. I'm sure you understand."

With a slight hiccup, Mrs. Cole stood up and said, "Well, the boy could use some time away. Come back a little less… Well… Would you like to see him?"

Before Albus could answer, Tom immediately darted away as quiet as he could and ran up the stairs to his room just off the second landing, quietly half-shutting his door. He struggled to calm his breathing as he sat down on his bed and waited for the other two to come up. Back down in Mrs. Cole's office, Albus replied, "Very much. After you," and held the door open as they both exited the room and made their way upstairs.

When they reached the door, Tom heard two firm knocks before the door opened and Mrs. Cole introduced Albus, "Look sharp, Tom. You've got a visitor. This is… Mr. Dumberton... No… Dunderbore… Sorry… Nimblebear. He's come to tell you… Well, I'll just let him get to it."

Albus entered the room, which was bare save for a hard chair next to the bed, a tall wardrobe in the corner next to the door, and an iron bedstead in the diagonally opposite corner. Tom was sitting, legs dangling off the edge of a thin mattress, and holding a book he just moments before used his mind to summon from underneath his bed. There was a moment of silence as Tom slowly looked up from his book and met Albus's eyes before Albus broke it and said, "How do you do, Tom?" and walked forward with his hand extended.

Tom hesitated, thought, "What a weird suit. He's a teacher?" before reaching out his hand to shake with Albus.

Albus pulled the chair over to sit next to Tom and said, "I am Professor Dumbledore."

Tom looked down at his book and said, "Are you sure it isn't Dunderbore or Nimblebear?"

Albus chuckled, easing up a bit in his chair, before correcting Tom, "No. Cheers to your matron, it is Dumbledore. My name, excuse the longness of it, is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. But at my school, my students call me either 'Professor' or 'Professor Dumbledore'."

Tom looked up, eyes narrowed at Albus, and sneered, "Professor? Is that like 'doctor'? Did she get you to look at me? What are you here for, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore smiles and retorts, "No, no. And please, my names are a mouthful, Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Tom kept his eyes fixed on Albus's and inquired, "My name is Tom. Just Tom. If you call me Tom, may I call you just Albus?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment before cocking his head to the left to reply, "Why not? I am Albus, and you are Tom. Now, I assure you I am no doctor. While I do know medicine, I am not here to examine you, nor take you to the loony bin."

Tom lurched up from his bed and yelled, "I don't believe you! She wants me looked at, that hag. Tell the truth!" The last three words came out of his mouth with such a ringing force that Albus almost shrank in his seat. His eyes now wide, Tom asked, "Who are you, really?"

Albus, undaunted by the boy's outburst, calmly answered with a pat on the bed for him to sit, which Tom did, "My boy, I have just told you. I am Professor Dumbledore, Albus, and I teach at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school, which has had your name since you were born. Your… new school, if you'd like to come."

Tom jumped up again, this time getting even closer to Albus's face before he backed away and ran his hand through his hair. After doing a couple of circular laps around the small room, Tom looked and pointed back at Albus to say, "You've come from the asylum, haven't you? Well… you can tell that.. that… old cat that I'm not going. I'm not leaving. She's the one who's gone barmy with the gin. You saw her, could barely say your name and wouldn't stop trashing my mom down in her office…"

As soon as he said this, Tom stopped dead, knowing he'd been caught. Albus gave a quick smirk and said, "So, you were watching. I thought I heard your chair creak. No, Tom, I am not from the asylum. I am a teacher at, in my most humbly biased opinion, the best school for children like you in the world. Now, if you would kindly and calmly sit down I'd like to talk more…"

Tom, still standing in place, bellowed, "I'm NOT MAD!"

Albus locked eyes with Tom and calmly explained, "Hogwarts… is a school for young children like yourself. Children with… special abilities. It is a school of magic."

Tom froze, expressionless, but his eyes frantically flicked back and forth to each of Albus's eyes as if to catch just one of them in the lie. After another moment of silence, Tom's shoulders relaxed a little and he asked, "Magic? It's… magic what I can do?"

Albus grinned, tapped on the bed once more, and said, "And what is it that you can do, Tom?"

Tom's leg jittered with excitement for a moment as a flush of red invaded his face and he said, "All sorts. I can do a ton of things like… Not like what you did, with the gin and the glass and the paper… But I can…" Tom reached out his right hand and said assertively, "Here," and the book that was lying on the bed zoomed into it. He continued, "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want, without even doing the training. Stubby's rabbit would jump as high as I said, even without a treat. And… And… I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me… I can make them hurt… If I want to. I knew I was different. I knew I was special."

Albus's smile faded grim as he brought his arm back in close to slowly stroke his beard. After a moment, staring at Tom who is still looking down, he affirmed, "Well, you are quite right. You're a wizard, Tom."

Tom perked up and asked, "Is that how you can do that appearing thing, and whatever you did to Mrs. Cole? You're a wizard too?" After a brief pause and another deep stare into Albus's eyes, he continued, "Prove it. Show me more."

Albus thought for a moment, but just as he pulled out his wand to cast a spell on the wardrobe, he hesitated. Narrowing his eyes a little bit, he looked down at the feet of his chair and spotted a long splinter poking out of one of the legs. Pulling it loose with his other hand, he lifted his suit jacket and pricked himself in the forearm until a small stream of blood came forth. Tom was about to gasp something out but Albus threw away the splinter and held up his hand to stop him. He paused a moment to let the blood flow a little more before he gazed into Tom's eyes and said, "Now, pay close attention, Tom." He pointed his wand at the slow stream of blood and said clearly, "Tergeo."

As if Albus's wand was a magnet, the blood lifted off of his forearm without leaving any residue and, with a flick of his wand, the blood vanished. He then pointed back down at the prick and cast, "Episkey," and the wound magically sealed itself without any trace.

Tom, entranced by this show of, in his mind, expertise, looked back and forth from Albus to the man's wound as he sat back down on the bed, mouth slightly agape. Sensing the awe, Albus chuckled and said, "If you come to Hogwarts, in time, you will be able to do much the same, and more I feel. You already have quite the knack and control. Such skills that I doubt any your age currently have. If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts…"

Tom burst out, "Of course I am!"

Albus chuckled again and continued, "Then I must insist, at least while in the company of the students and other teachers, you refer to me as 'Professor' or 'sir'. It would not do for other students to think of me as anything other than their teacher. In time, I would like you to do the same, but Albus is fine for now. No long names, please. If you ever use my full name…" He locked eyes with the boy and continued, "Or attempt to command me with magic again, you will not like the outcome."

Albus dropped his glare when he saw Tom back away and he was about to say something before Tom interrupted, "Yes… I'm sorry, Albus… I mean, Sir. I only… Well. Where can I get one of them?" pointing at Albus's ebony wand.

Albus grinned and said, "All in good time, Tom. Now, I believe the more pressing question is what is hiding in your wardrobe. Forgive me if I am mistaken, but I do believe there are things in there that do not belong." Albus lowered his gaze to lightly meet Tom's again and inquired, "Am I correct, Tom?"

Tom looked at the wooden wardrobe for a few moments before replying with a quick nod. Albus raised an open palm, inviting Tom to open the wardrobe. His hands shook a little as he obeyed, reached up to the top shelf, and pulled down a small cardboard box. Albus tapped on the bed once more and politely demanded, "Well, let's see it then."

Tom gingerly sat on his bed and opened the box. Inside was a mish-mash of seemingly everyday objects: a silver thimble, a brown and white wooden yo-yo, and a tarnished mouth organ. After staring down at the objects for what felt like a decade, Tom looked back up to meet Albus's calm face with abject fear. Albus gave a small smile, placed a firm yet gentle hand on Tom's left shoulder, and asked, "Now, whose are these, Tom?"

The boy looked back down at the objects in the box and in turn pointed at the yo-yo, thimble, and mouth organ as he replied, "Stubby, Dennis, Martha."

When he looked back at Albus, who was now grinning, Albus said, "Good. Now, I must warn you. Thievery, of any kind, is strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. If you are to come to my school, you will give each one of these, and any others you may have elsewhere, back to their rightful owners." Using his wand to magically lift and replace the lid on the box, he continued, "I shall know when this is done. At Hogwarts, we teach our students not only how to focus and control their magic, but how to use it well and without harming another without credible cause. If you harm another without reason, the school can and will expel you and our Ministry of Magic punishes those who use their magic for ill will most severely. In entering our world, you and every other young wizard must accept a code of magical and personal conduct. You cannot simply command others to do your will, or cause pain to those who annoy you."

Tom kept Albus's gaze and without expression said, "Yes, sir." Albus lifted the box and handed it to Tom, who used both arms to hold it close.

Albus stood for a moment to stretch his long legs and Tom looked up and mumbled, "Albus… Sir, I haven't any money… to pay for school… or anything else. How will I…"

In-between twists, Albus paused to interrupt, "Easily remedied, Tom. Hogwarts…" He gave a heavy twist to the left before sighing and sitting back down to proceed, "Forgive me. I'm growing old. Hogwarts has a fund for students that need assistance with paying for school books, robes, wands, what have you. You might have to get them secondhand, Tom, but…"

Tom, now staring and grinning at Albus with obvious excitement and intrigue, cut in, "Spellbooks? Where can I buy spellbooks from? Is there a store in London?"

Seeing Tom's change of expression, Albus pulled a jingling leather pouch from the same pocket that held his wand and set it on Tom's bed. As Tom began to pull out various coins to inspect them, Albus said, "The Bronze are called Knuts, Silver are Sickles, and the Gold are called Galleons. 29 knuts to a sickle, 17 Sickles to a Galleon. You may find everything you need in a place called Diagon Alley, which happens to have an entrance here in London. I have a list of books and necessary equipment you'll need for your first term. If you'd like, I could come with you to…"

Riddle stopped inspecting the coins to look Albus in the eye and interrupted, "You're coming with me? I don't need you. I walk around London all the time. I'm sure I'll find this place. Where can I find this entrance?"

Albus stroked his beard and responded, "There is an inn called the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross road. You'll find that while you see it as a perfectly normal tavern, Muggles, that is, those not born to magical families nor possessing magic of their own, see it as abandoned and run-down. This helps keep our statute of secrecy intact. The barman, Tom, is who you should ask for. Should be easy to remember, seeing as you share a name."

As soon as Albus said this, Tom recoiled and crossed his arms. Albus notices and inquires, "Oh, do you not like your given name, Tom?"

The boy barely looked up as he answered, "There are a lot of Toms… Was my father a wizard, like me? He was called Tom Riddle too, or so the matrons told me," looking up at Albus expectantly.

Albus pondered for a moment before answering in a gentle voice, "I'm afraid I don't know."

Tom looked back down into his lap as he said, "Well, my mother can't have been. She wouldn't have died like she did if she were like me, or you." Brushing off the moment of discomfort, Tom looked back up but didn't meet Albus's eyes and inquired, "So, when I get this stuff, when do I get to go to Hogwarts? How do wizards get to the school? Do I have to go a different way since I was raised by non-magic people?"

Albus placed his hand back on Tom's shoulder as he asked gently, "Are you sure, Tom? Are you sure you don't want me to take you to get your things for school? It is no trouble for me and, I assure you, you will have much more fun traveling with me to Diagon Alley than you would alone…" He narrowed his eyes and smirked before continuing, "I know many of its secrets if you'd like to know them. But only if you choose to let me be your companion. Just for the trip. At school, I am afraid, I am a busy man and have hundreds of students to care for. That being said, I am always available to help those who seek it."

Fidgeting with the edges of the box holding his stolen trophies, Tom took a couple of minutes to weigh his options. Finally looking back at Albus, who hadn't averted his gentle stare, Tom said, "Tell me one secret about Diagon Alley and I will tell you my secret. If your secret is good, I will go with you. If not, I will get up now and go myself. And I know how to hide, so you won't find me."  
Albus chuckled and said, "Oh, I have no doubt. Now…. Hmm. Okay, here's one. Inside one the many, many vaults in Gringotts Wizard Bank, there is a chamber that houses a live dragon. It protects a family's ancestral fortune. Like all of Gringotts, no one has ever broken into this vault and lived."

Tom perked up and said, "Okay. That is a good one, but it doesn't beat mine." He took a deep breath and uttered, "I can speak to snakes. Ever since I could first talk, they just seem to find me. And we can understand each other. I don't know how, but I can. Is that normal? In the wizarding world, I mean?"

Albus gave the young boy an inquisitive look, stroked his beard a couple of times, and calmly replied, "It is… unusual, but not unheard of. We call it Parseltongue and I don't personally know anyone, except now you, who can but…" Albus quickly pulled out and glanced inside his pocket watch before saying, "I'm sorry, Tom. I must cut this lovely discussion short here. I have a meeting at the Ministry that I am already late to. I will come back to get you in 5 days. Be ready by eight o'clock in the morning and we shall go discover even more of the secrets of Diagon Alley together."

Tom stood and after hastily shaking Albus Dumbledore's hand, the man let go, winked at Tom, and vanished with a quick spin and an audible crack!


	3. An Abecedarian’s Accident

The first thing Tom Riddle did after witnessing Albus Dumbledore vanish before his eyes wasn't to panic and puzzle out a plausible explanation. Nor to run and tell Mrs. Cole to call the police to bring this man to justice. The first thing Tom did was stare at the small cardboard box, whose contents the man he had just met demanded to be returned to their rightful owners. For half an hour, Tom pondered and puzzled out how a man, even a wizard as powerful as the vanishing man seemed to be, could tell if he returned them or not. Could he read his mind? Was he watching from outside? Did he have some other magical means of monitoring the contents themselves? This led to yet another hour of Tom closely inspecting every centimeter of the box, the trophies he took, and even the wardrobe itself. The one thought that kept invading his thoughts, a thought he had never bothered to have before, was "What if he's right? Shouldn't I just give them back?"

It was a strange sensation, thinking of his fellow orphans in such a way. When he first accidentally caused Billy Stubb's rabbit to jump so high that it killed itself on the rafters, he didn't pay it any mind. The boy deserved it for telling Mrs. Cole about the cave he found with Dennis and Amy. What's more, Eric Whalley pushed Tom down the stairs when they rushed to see the postman flirt with Martha. Tom didn't mean for the boy's boils to hurt so much.

But now… Sitting in his room alone with the cardboard box… he began to feel the smallest beginnings of regret. He knew how much Martha loved practicing her harmonica to show the postman. He knew that Dennis was sewing together a doll for Amy, who got so scared on their trip to the cave that she came back frightened of her own shadow. And Stubby's yo-yo tricks were actually a small delight, which Tom obviously kept to himself, when he showed off after dinner every day. Tom thought to himself, "What were they doing without these things, these trophies he took?" And then Tom started to panic because those thoughts of regret instantly changed to fear. "What if Albus really can see into my mind? What if he saw… What if he saw what really happened in the cave? What if he saw Tom telling the snakes that came to Wool's to pester the other orphans? What if… What if now that they have met and Albus has seen all of this… What if he won't let Tom go to Hogwarts anymore?"

This is the thought that kept Tom tossing and turning for the next two days, giving him nightmares about the things inside the cardboard box rattling around and calling out to him to be given back, no matter how much he screamed in his dreams to leave him alone. Each of these dreams, however, ended the same way: He felt himself walking into a short corridor, pushing open the room to a nursery, and seeing a blinding flash of green light just before waking up in a cold sweat. Every time he woke up from that dream, he felt more and more horrified.

Finally, on the fourth day after Albus came to visit him, Tom decided to give the trophies back. Late at night, he set each of their possessions outside the owners' doors, except for the thimble. He put Dennis's thimble back into Mrs. Cole's sewing kit she kept by the entrance to the courtyard. Dennis would always sit there with her and knit as everyone else played with whatever meager toys were available and hadn't been stolen or destroyed overnight. When he finally snuck back into his room, he set the empty cardboard box back on the top shelf of his wardrobe and laid down in his bed. Though he didn't think about it, Tom felt relieved. He fell asleep instantly and didn't have a single dream that night. The haunting green light never came and when he woke on the 5th day, the day Albus promised to return, he awoke with another first: genuine excitement coupled with an eagle owl sitting in the windowsill with a piece of fine parchment tied to one of its legs.

Taking a moment to look outside his bedroom door to look at the clock and confirm he didn't wake up late, he slowly moved toward the owl with a hand outstretched. He wasn't afraid of it, more unsure of what it would do. He had never seen an owl in person, being cooped up inside the orphanage most of the time. This was also London. Predatory birds like owls didn't live in the city; they roamed the countryside. As he continued to step closer, the owl cocked its head and held out its leg for Tom to take the letter. The owl remained motionless as Tom hesitantly undid the knotted cord holding the letter to its leg and inspected the purple wax seal on it. Tom pulled on the large, cursive 'D' engraved into the wax and it snapped off the paper. A 10-inch parchment unfolded in his hands and he began to read the untidy, yet stylized handwriting of Albus Dumbledore:

Dear Tom Riddle,

I hope this letter finds you well. It pleased me to see that you returned your fellow orphan's and matron's possessions. I hope I imparted that vital lesson to you, for I would very much like to see you complete your education at Hogwarts. When I informed the headmaster of your innate abilities, he too was intrigued by your potential.

If you still wish for me to accompany you to Diagon Alley, meet me outside the gate to Wool's Orphanage at 10 o'clock sharp today. I have a grand adventure planned as well as a trip to quite possibly the best candy shop in all of England, save for Honeydukes of course.

I have also arranged for you to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the last few days before the start of term. I know that you will not want to go back to the muggle world after witnessing the magical community at its finest. The true reason is that it would not do for any of your compatriots at Wool's to happen upon the books and supplies you buy on our trip. The statute of magical secrecy holds severe punishments for offenders, I'm afraid.

I shall see you at 10 outside the gate. Please give Pearl, the eagle owl, a scratch on the head and she will know to come back to me.

Cheers,

Professor Albus Dumbledore

Tom reread the letter 3 times, wondering how it was possible that a man of Albus's age and power could have a sweet tooth. He was also thankful that he would not have to spend any more time at this horrid orphanage, at least not until next summer. Before reading for the fourth time, he scratched the top of the eagle owl's head and it fluttered out his open window.

Tom was so engrossed in the letter that he didn't notice Billy Stubbs standing in the doorway to his room, staring at him while absentmindedly walking the dog with his newly returned yo-yo. When Tom finally looked up and saw him, his excitement veered into frustration. He didn't like being watched, especially by the other children, the snitches they were.

Billy chuckled as he pulled the yo-yo back up, crossed his arms, and sneered, "Must be a great letter. Never seen you smile before. Is it that old man who came to see you? Why would he want to adopt an evil twat like you? Doesn't he know you killed your own mum being born? Or that you steal people's things just because we see you for what you are?" He flung his yo-yo high into the air before catching it on the taught string in his hands. It spun back and forth before he looped the string back around it again and put in his pocket before resuming, "Thanks, by the way. I knew you had it. You must be wanting to show you're a good boy, now that an old fart wants to adopt you. When Martha said this morning that she got her harmonica back too, I knew it must have been you that took them."

Tom's face grew hot as the anger welled up behind his eyes. Every part of him wanted to give Stubby boils, just like he did with Whalley. Seeing him flush, Billy pressed his advantage, "Oh, can't lash out now, can you Riddle? That's a great name, by the way. I've got one for you. What's pale, got sticky fingers, and killed his own mum?" Stubby roared with laughter as he saw Tom begin to shake. The shakes were so violent that his bed started banging against his wall.

This shaking and Stubby's cackling grew louder and louder until finally, Tom bellowed, "STOP!" And Billy Stubbs did. His jaw slacked, his arms and legs snapped inward, and he fell face-first to the floor with a loud crunch. Blood from his forehead and nose began to pool on the tiled floor as Tom stood still in front of his window. Blood also dripped from his clenched hands where his nails broke the skin of his palm. For longer than Tom expected, he considered stomping Stubby's face further into the floor. Or throwing him from the window, if he could even pick up the fat lard. Or he could use magic to make him feel pain. Like he did with Amy and Dennis when they called him a freak for liking how isolated and quiet his cave was. That pain… It made him feel good at the time. Maybe it would feel the same now. He raised his hand and was about to do it, but suddenly he wasn't in his small, brick-walled room on the second floor of Wool's Orphanage. He wasn't in a place he recognized at all.

He was standing, an unknown, ivory-white wand in his extended hand, in the doorway to a young boy's nursery. A muffled voice, coming from his mouth, yelled at the red-haired woman clutching her son as he cried. With a bright green flash from the wand, she collapsed, limp, to the wooden floor of the room. The infant stopped crying and instead looked directly into his eyes, Tom's eyes. Their bright green were the same as the mother's. Dangerously piercing yet shockingly beautiful. Tom's vision shifted as his form moved forward, wand now pointed at the boy. He lowered his wand for a moment before snapping it back to the boy's face and with another flash of green, Tom was thrust back into his room at Wool's. The vision ended.

Tom looked down at his hand, blood still dripping from his palm and to the floor, and immediately thought of the professor who was coming to get him in less than an hour. If this man ever found out what he had done, what he planned to do, he would never accept him. This wasn't accidental magic, like the man said most young wizards could do before learning control. He wanted to hurt Stubby. To make him feel such pain that he would never bully him or the other orphans again. But now, the moment passed. He didn't regret trying to hurt him. The kid deserved it. "But that doesn't mean I don't deserve my chance to leave here," Tom thought as he lowered his hand.

Thinking quickly, he lifted Stubby's face to see the boy's nose broken and bleeding profusely. Thankfully, most of the blood was on his floor and not on the boy's clothes. Racking his memory of how Professor Dumbledore did his spellwork, Tom closed his door and practiced the incantation he heard 10 times each while pacing around Stubby's unconscious form. When he felt comfortable with each pronunciation, he knelt back down and turned Stubby's body over to face upward. After checking to make sure the coast was clear from his room to Stubby's at the end of the hall, Tom tried lifting the rotund boy by his arms. He managed to lift him only a few inches off the ground before his weak arms gave out and Stubby's head hit the floor again. Though the boy's eyes were wide open in paralysis, Tom swore he saw pain behind them. That thought didn't last long as he thought of a better idea.

This time taking the ragged blanket off his bed, he laid it on the floor and then rolled Stubby onto it. Checking the hallways once more, he gave a great heave and found it much easier to get the obese boy sliding across the wooden floor. Careful to avoid the nail protruding out of the floor by the matron Martha's room, he sneaked his way down the hall and into Stubby's room.

Slightly larger than Tom's, this room didn't have a window but it did make up for it with better furniture. Because Billy Stubbs was a recent orphan, Tom knew not why, his bed, wardrobe, and chair were fairly new. Whoever left the boy behind also left a little bit of money, which Tom secretly hated about Billy the most. He was left nothing. The only possessions his dead mother left him were odd coins that he couldn't even pawn in the dodgier parts of London and a few blankets the old matron, Mrs. O'Shea, said his mother wore when she arrived. Tom gave up the blankets when he was 6, tired of their weird smell. He did keep the coins though, ever curious of their— thus his parents'— origins.

Tom dragged Stubby to the back of the boy's room and quickly yanked his blanket out from under him. He grabbed a chair and, with his hands resting in his palms and his elbows on his knees, he racked his brain for how to convince the boy laying on the ground to not tattle on him. Even though he knew he could do magic now, given his visit from Albus, he wondered if he could modify the boy's memory using it. He didn't want to erase all of his memories, it would be too obvious that Tom had done that sort of irreparable damage. No, he needed something else. He also didn't know how long whatever he did to Stubby would last. If there was a spell to make someone go limp, there had to be a counter-spell of some kind, right? Tom was already wishing he was at Hogwarts, learning such advanced magics when he heard Mrs. Cole call from the stairs, "Alright, children, time for chores. That means you too, Tom and Dennis."

Now Tom's eyes matched Stubby's as he hastily closed the door and began pacing around the boy's body, his hands wringing his hair. He lapped the room until he heard what could only be Mrs. Cole's heavy footfalls climbing the stairs. Tom quickly opened the door and closed it behind him before walking forward with a practiced smile on his face. Mrs. Cole stopped short of his room, looked behind Tom to see where he had come from, and raised an eyebrow at him. Knowing what she was going to ask, Tom said in a forced, disappointed tone, "Stu… I mean Billy isn't feeling well and asked me if I could do his chores for him. I said yes in exchange for him doing mine tomorrow. He was barely awake when he told me, so we shouldn't bother him. Shall we get back to the others, Mrs. Cole?"

Despite him laying it on thick, Mrs. Cole replied, "I think not," and brushed past him towards Billy's room. As she reached the door, Tom stood back and began to shake. Repeated flashes of green light invaded his vision, repeated images of whoever he was in the dream killing that red-haired woman. His right hand came up again, prepared to do the same thing he did to Stubby. Just as he opened his eyes to do so, he saw Mrs. Cole standing at the entrance to the boy's room. She's just… standing there, breathing soft but deep. In a trance. Tom slowly walked forward and peered around her to see her face, he saw the same thing he saw when Albus first used magic on her: her eyes were half rolled to the back of her head. Excited, he glanced into Stubby's room and saw Albus sitting in the boy's chair and smiling at Tom.

That excitement quickly turned to an urgent need for explanation in his brain as he stood next to a still confunded Mrs. Cole. Dumbledore continued to smile and asked coolly, "You've been testing your powers, I see?"

Tom, not breaking eye contact as he gave a curt nod and began, "He was bullying me about your letter. And your visit. I told him to stop, but he didn't. I meant to silence him, not make him like… like that."

Before Tom continued, Albus beckoned him over and emphasized, "Yes. Meaning is often lost when casting spells without focus. Tom, what do you think the foundation of magic is? What makes you and I different from an average muggle?"

Tom didn't even think before he said, "Power."

Albus's smile faded a little as he countered, "Interesting. So, would you say you have power over Billy Stubbs, here?" He pointed to the boy's unmoving body, whose eyes hadn't so much as blinked in minutes. He then pointed to the woman and resumed, "As I have power over Mrs. Cole? Do you think you deserve this power, Tom? That because we have magic, we must naturally use that power to put others, especially muggles, under our will?"

Tom knew what this old man was doing. He's trying to catch him in a lie, just like Mrs. Cole tried to at the beach with Amy and Dennis. But he didn't give in. Instead, he rebuked, "I was just trying to make him stop. He's always bullying me. What happened to his rabbit was because he pushed me down the stairs. Just like the rest of them."

Albus smiled again and inquired, "Ah, so it is not that you deserve power over them. It is that they in turn deserve to suffer for treating you this way? With that logic, Billy would be moral in say, breaking your nose? Tit for tat?"

Tom glowered, anger beginning to betray his words, "What are you getting at, Albus?"

Now Albus smiled even wider and said calmly as his sparkling, electric blue eyes bored into Tom, "There we go. Honesty. I wondered at the motivation for you to give back their things after I left. You didn't care about their owners, did you, Tom? No. This was all about you doing everything you could to leave this place. Well…" Albus pointed down at Stubby and continued, "How did that work out for you, Tom? Do you think you have convinced me to bring you into the magical world?"

Tom, his body now shaking with anger, pointed to Mrs. Cole and said, "What about Mrs. Cole? You messed with her brains when you first came here and now you've done the same again."

Albus continued to smile and jabbed, "Indeed. I have used my magic to confuse her brain and temporarily pause her in place. However, I have much more control over my magic than you, Tom. My magic will leave no trace in her brain and she will be fine the moment I say my counter-charm. The same cannot be said for young Billy."

Tom, his anger simmering down but still present, asked, "What do you want me to do about it? I don't…"

Albus interrupted, "You're going to have your first lesson, with me. Albeit one you normally would not have for many years at my school. Kneel over Billy and hover your hand over his forehead." Tom hesitated but after unwillingly remembering how foreign his feelings felt during and after the green light visions, he complied. His hand over Stubby's head, he looked to Albus who guided, "Now, repeat after me. Finite Incantatem."

Tom looked quizzically at the man for a moment before muttering, "Finite Incantatem." Tom waited for a moment and when nothing happened, he looked back at Albus.

Albus continued to smile as he inquired, "What did you learn when you accidentally paralyzed Billy?"

Tom thought for a minute before answering, "I have to mean it. I have to want it… Are you saying I don't want to help Billy?"

Albus chuckled and japed, "Well, yes. I have no doubt that you wish for this curse to stop. It is an obvious barrier to what you no doubt desperately want. However, it is your intention that matters most here, not what you will gain by doing so. That comes secondary. You have to want Billy to get better. For you to undo this curse, you must truly want to help him, not just have a way out of whatever trouble you think you are in with me."

Tom almost yelled at Albus but instead he looked back at Billy Stubbs, whose wide eyes were now crying from the pain of his eyes drying out. Tom thought, "But… He deserved it, didn't he? For all the hurt he caused me…" But then, for a single moment, the only moment it needed, a seed of doubt entered Tom's mind. And when it did, Dumbledore noticed and his smile was no longer a facade. Tom wondered whether it was right to hurt them. Did he cause them pain first? Even if he hadn't, was it right to hurt them in kind? "Maybe not," Tom mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes and placed his hand gently on Billy Stubb's forehead.

His hand faintly glowing, Tom, unknowingly using that moment of doubt as his guide, repeated the incantation, "Finite Incantatem." Tom's paralysis spell faded and Billy Stubbs's eyes finally closed, a final tear flowing down his cheeks. The boy's breath became slower and more even and Tom opened his eyes to see Billy asleep under his hand.

Albus softly placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and said, "Good, Tom. Well done. That is all you needed. I did not mean for you to change your ways immediately, for that is not possible. All I needed, and all you needed, was a single moment of doubt to take hold and allow you to undo the damage done. Now, thankfully, the spell you cast was quite basic and not as powerful as you think. He likely would have come to his senses within a few minutes had I not intervened. But that would have proved troublesome for you especially, as well as being a waste of a teachable moment. Now…"

With a swift movement of his wand, the blood covering Billy's clothes and face vanished and the boy's nose, with a soft crack, mended instantly. With an assertive, concentrated voice, Albus looked to both Mrs. Cole and Billy, and cast, "Obliviate." Both the boy and the matron's eyes rolled back before Tom stood up and shook Mrs. Cole's hand as she came to. She was momentarily bewildered at the sight of Albus and Tom standing in Billy Stubbs's room and Albus interrupted her stammers, "While I do wish I could stay and have another drink with you, my dear Mrs. Cole, I must insist on bringing Tom with me now. I am unfortunately on a tighter schedule than anticipated and Tom still needs to gather his supplies for school."

With that, Albus walked right past her, and Tom followed until the professor stopped outside Tom's room. With another flash of movement with his wand, Albus summoned Tom's few belongings into a conjured briefcase and the room tidied itself to the point where it looked like no one had ever lived in it. Albus handed Tom the briefcase and with a short nod and a smile, he asserted, "Shall we?" and led the way out of Wool's Orphanage and out onto the busy streets of London. After turning left and starting to walk down the cobbled sidewalk, Tom curious as to their destination, Albus stated, "There is a time and place for curses such as the one you used today. I trust that in time, you will know such an occasion and also come to understand why today was not it."

Quickening his pace, Albus, without looking down at Tom who is struggling to keep up, asserted, "Now… to the Leaky Cauldron."


	4. A Felicitous Feather

After many blocks of walking and feeling the heavy briefcase bang against his legs and the ground, Tom finally broke their mutual silence and asked, "Why are you still bringing me?" It was a question that was burrowing in and out of his brain since they left the orphanage, a home that never felt like home. While he was glad to be rid of it, he wasn't sure if Albus believed he deserved it. He wasn't sure if he even believed it.

Albus continued walking, his hands in his pockets until they crossed a street unknown to Tom and he finally answered, "Tom, why do you think your spell on young Mr. Stubbs wasn't powerful?" When Tom didn't answer a few minutes as they crossed the street and passed through an alley, Albus stopped and squatted down to be level with Tom. After placing his hand to gently hold Tom by the shoulder, he smiled and explained, "Because of your will, Tom. You chose to not cause irreparable damage to Billy when, given your already staggering abilities, you could have. You could have scarred him. Made his tongue choke him. Or turned his head into a halt sign. But you didn't. This is why I am not mad at, nor surprised by your reaction. Of course, I am disappointed that you again chose to use your magic to harm someone. But it gives me hope that you didn't choose to make him feel unimaginable pain. It proves to me that somewhere inside you there is someone I can still teach. Someone who still has enough love in them to doubt, as you did, that choosing violence is the only option in the face of violence.

"In your time at my school, at Hogwarts, you will undoubtedly come across students who wish you ill, or someone who will disagree with you. Tom, if I tried to maim or kill every person who ever crossed me, I would be rotting in Azkaban. That being said, this change in you won't be immediate. I know you don't much care for anyone but yourself right now, but I feel confident in my abilities, and how my past has guided me, to know I can still guide you towards a greater path. Now, what do you say, Tom? May I finally show you the wondrous world of magic?" Albus stood back up and held out his hand as he waited for the opportunity to cross a street Tom had never been to. Tom looked at the hand for a while, for what felt like a year, before looking up at Albus with an odd sense of warmth and taking the man's hand.

As Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle crossed Charing Cross Road, Tom noticed a group of people walking past a pub that didn't seem to attract the attention of those passing. Some even walked right past it and into a bookshop just next door, as if the place next to it didn't exist. Outside the black door hung a metal sign with a gold background and black cauldron with the words The Leaky Cauldron inscribed in gold lettering. Albus invited Tom to open the door, seeing his brief hesitation.

A sight beyond his already wild imagination greeted Tom as he opened the door to the chaotic yet harmonious tavern. Despite every single person in the large dining room being dressed in ordinary clothes, books, cups, plates, and even chairs were flying around to find their new place, as if carried by invisible hands. A young wizard, maybe 4 years older than Tom, was standing in front of a tall mirror and turning his clothes different colors with a flick of his wand and a verbal incantation Tom couldn't hear over a heated discussion in the corner by the door about something called a Curupira and its hairs. As much as Tom immediately wanted to go over and ask what they were talking about, a young, yet already balding man with brown hair and a matching pinstripe vest and trousers came up to happily shake Albus's hand.

"Hello Tom, bars as busy as ever I see!" Albus yelled over the crowd. "How's Dott?"

The elder Tom looked down at the younger for a fraction of a second before looking back to Albus and answering with a wide smile, "All's well it could be. Dott's good, but her mum's been bonkers the last fortnight. If I knew how busy this place would be just before the school year, I wouldn't have married into the family so soon after school. Haha, it's all berries though. You see those two in the corner?" Both the younger Tom and Albus turned around to look at the two the former heard debating as they came in as the elder Tom continued with an arm around Albus's shoulder, "Those two have been here a week already and I swear, their debate on the best wand cores never seems to end! They even got ol' Gervaise Ollivander, their own COMPETITOR in the wand-market, to join in for a couple sessions. Of course, Gervaise likes his unicorn hair and dragon heartstring. Wouldn't hear a peep more when they started suggesting Veela hair and, of all the preposterous things, A TROLL WHISKER!"

Albus chuckled and gently gripped Tom Riddle's shoulder as he clarified, "Not quite as odd as you'd think, Tom. Not sure if you ever met him, since you never had the distinct displeasure of taking Divination during your time at Hogwarts, but a portrait in that corridor swears by a wand with that core. He said, unless I am much mistaken, that Merlin himself crafted the wand to help the knight protect King Arthur."

Tom the barman keeled over in laughter and in between gasps for air he blurted out, "King… Arthur! Oh, dear. I'm gonna need a jorum o' skee after that one. Can I get you anything? On the house?"

Albus gripped the younger Tom a little harder for a moment before answering, "Not today, Tom. Already behind and young Tom here still needs his supplies. He's starting Hogwarts this year."

The two Tom's eyes met and sheer delight spread across the elder's face as he squatted down to shake the younger's hand and said, "Chuffed to meetcha, fellow Tom. How in Merlin's pants did you convince the best wizard since Merlin to bring you here?"

The younger Tom weakly shook the hand and mumbled, "I'm from what you wizards call the Muggle World."

The elder Tom smiled even wider and retorted, "Ain't nothing wrong with being a muggle-born. Any who think different have lost the plot, I say. I'm half-blood myself, and I do just fine. See?" Starting as a simple illuminated fog, a large goshawk erupted from Tom's wand and began flying around the bar. Silence took the room for the first time as they all, but especially Tom Riddle, stared in awe as the spectral hawk continued its laps. As he stared at it, a weird sense of warmth and contentment invaded Tom and continued until the magnificent bird finally came to rest on the elder Tom's shoulder and vanished. After a full minute of clapping from his patrons and a quick bow from Tom the barman, the crowd resumed to its dull roar of conversation.

Albus and Tom Riddle smiled at each other, feeling the effects of the elder Tom's spell even after it had dissipated. Tom the Barman puts his wand away in a hidden pocket of his pinstripe vest and beamed, "Only took me getting married, Professor, but I finally did it. And I just love seeing Dott's face when I cast it. Lights up like the northern lights, it does. Anyway, I assume you're going to the Alley, then?"

Before Albus could answer, the younger Tom inquired with glints of excitement in his eyes, "What spell was that? Can I try? It must be really powerful magic to make the room go quiet like that."  
The elder Tom knelt again and responded in a kind yet assertive tone, "That one's called the Patronus Charm. It's ruddy difficult to get right, because you've gotta really concentrate on a happy feeling or memory. I myself was thinking about when ol' Della Dodderidge, that's Dott's gran, gave me a job here when I didn't make NEWTS. Anyway, you'll learn that spell soon enough, if you stick around Dumbledore. Always brings out the best in his students, he does. Right, I'll let you two get goin'. I'm gonna go give some dog's soup to poor Davies. Been squiffy in here since his wife left him to go…" Before the elder Tom could continue, Albus cleared his throat and gestured for the younger Tom to follow him out a door towards the back of the bar.

Instead of seeing a continuation of the exhilarating Leaky Tavern, the back alley disappointed Tom as a tall brick wall was the only notable fixture. Tom walked up and touched the wall, expecting to find some crack or hidden way to get past it but came up short. Seeing the boy's reaction, Albus said with a chortle, "I forget how odd our world is compared to the mundanity of the Muggle world. You're on the right track, and this is the first secret I have to teach you about the magical world. How do you suggest we get through?"

Albus raised an eyebrow and sat down in a wicker chair, his hands resting in his trouser pockets, as Tom paced on the stone ground in front of the wall. Tom went up to the wall once more, not knowing what to look for but still doing his best to find any trace of magic in the bricks themselves. Touching and looking at the accumulating dust on his fingers, he said over his shoulder, "What am I supposed to be seeing, Albus?"

Albus, smiling at the boy's curiosity, teased, "Oh if you could see what I see, Tom. The magic of this wall is so old, I don't even know if I could find it myself if I didn't already know how to look. I doubt you'll be able to, but this spell requires more willpower than others. I want you to concentrate hard. Focus on that curiosity of yours and repeat the following incantation: Aparecium. Really concentrate. If you do, I'll share my sweets from Sugarplum's. A reward I'm sure would spark many questions should you tell anyone else. Go on; give it a bash."

Tom closed his eyes, placed his hand on a random brick, and focused his mind on knowing what the wall does. Saying the phrase over and over in his mind until he was sure he had the pronunciation down, Tom recited in a low, assertive voice, "Aparecium." After waiting nearly a minute for something to happen, Tom's eyes closed and his hands desperate to feel a change in the bricks, Albus chuckled, "Open your eyes, Tom."

Before him was a sight that shocked Tom so much that he stumbled back and nearly fell on his butt before catching himself. Engraved in a variety of luminescent colors were sigils he didn't understand but his mind somehow connected to from a rudimentary knowledge of their function. He walked forward and traced the glyphs as they followed a circular path around a section of missing bricks. Behind him, Albus was now stroking his beard in unseen admiration and curiosity as Tom completed the circuit and looked back to Albus with a sly grin. The man looked to his left, eyeing a fallen branch, and without even brandishing his wand, magically lobbed the branch to Tom, who caught it with two hands. He said with a returned grin, "Go ahead," and Tom gently tapped each brick in the circuit. Each one faintly illuminated with the same color as their corresponding runes.

As soon as he tapped the last brick, the entire wall sprung to life and the bricks themselves quickly divided along their borders and extended to the side until an opening to a long road appeared. Tom dropped the branch, his mouth slightly agape, and started walking forward to the unknown road. Standing up and following Tom, Albus called out just loud enough for the former to hear, "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Shops of various sizes and purposes lined the main street as Tom looked around in awe at both the place itself and the oddly dressed people surrounding him. His awe wasn't unique, as some people walking nearby pointed and stared at Dumbledore as they continued down the main road. Seeing this, Dumbledore quickened his pace to put his hand on Tom's shoulder, pointed far ahead of them to an oddly tilted at the top, towering white building, and stated, "That's our first stop, Gringotts Wizard Bank. I think you'll quite like it there, and it is also the place for the second secret of Diagon Alley I shall show you."

Resisting the temptation to walk into every shop along the long, main road of Diagon Alley, they finally stepped into the large white building of Gringotts, and again, Tom was struck dumb by what he saw. Small, humanoid creatures with pointy ears, noses, and far too many wrinkles walked up and down the marble lobby. Many of them were magically levitating various pieces of parchment all around them as they talked to each other in an unknown language that sounded abrasive to Tom's ear. A few of them turned and bowed to Dumbledore, who didn't seem to notice as they got in the short queue at the end of the hallway. Before the creature sitting far above on a raised desk could say a word, Tom nearly shouted at it, "What are YOU?"

A brief note of irritation betrayed the creature's pointed facial features before it looked to Albus and sneered, "Escorting Mudbloods around, are we, Professor Dumbledore?"

Albus frowned and retorted, "I'd prefer you not use that word around me, or at all, Fa'argruff."

The goblin returned the frown before clapping his hands twice, laughing once, and continued, "Still bent on that debate, I see. Well, he doesn't look like one to me anyway. Half-blood is my guess. What may a humble goblin such as myself help such an…" Fa'argruff bowed his head sarcastically low before raising it with a smirk to continue, "...esteemed wizard such as the great Albus Dumbledore, hero of elf and goblin-kind?"

Albus brushed off the obvious insult and declared, "I am here to open an account for young Tom, here. I don't believe his family had an account, so basic protections for a new one should suffice. Will this cover the fee?" Albus opened his hands and a few golden coins appeared as he flicked them onto the goblin's high desktop, landing in a perfect stack.

Fa'argruff's smirk faded as he scooped almost all of the coins into an unseen drawer and held up the last gold coin to ask, "And what's this last one for? We goblins aren't fond of bribery, Dumbledore."

Albus smiled and said, "That is to take Tom and I to Vault 2. Not inside, obviously. I want to show the boy the wondrous magic your people are capable of. I myself have always been jealous of its enchantments."

Fa'argruff looked from the coin to the boy and back before pocketing it and grunted, "Wand?" with his hand outstretched.

Dumbledore reached into his trousers, procured his ebony wand, and placed it into the goblin's hand, who slowly inspected it before placing it inside the same breast pocket he put the gold coin in. The goblin hopped down from his desk, disappearing for a moment before Tom heard the goblin's voice far behind him, next to a door by the entrance, yell, "Follow me." Albus and Tom followed him at a brisk pace through the door and down a long labyrinthian set of hallways. At one point, Tom swore they went back to the beginning, as he saw a similar portrait of a goblin in noble victorian garb hanging from the wall at the entrance and yet again 10 minutes later.

After another 10 minutes of winding paths without doors and just enough candlelight to light the way, Fa'argruff stopped in front of a stone door without a handle and hissed, "Good luck trying to do that without being a goblin. One scumsucker like you, Dumbledore, tried the labyrinth and we still haven't found his body, 200 years on." Cackling at his joke, the goblin placed his hand firmly on a raised section of the stone slab and, as if made of fragile glass, the stone became brittle and crumbled away into dust on the ground.

When Tom looked through the doorway, he saw a dimly lit room with the largest selection of books he has ever seen. Albus's voice betrayed his excitement as he gushed without looking at Tom, "This is said to be the personal library of Merlin himself. It self-replenishes with every notable magical discovery and tome of the day and is only accessible to those of his own line. No one knows who that truly is, but this vault only continues to exist so long as an heir lives. I will always be eternally jealous of whoever that is. This is my second secret, Tom. A secret not you, I, or Fa'argruff here, will ever truly appreciate but will always wish to enter."

Albus turned and nodded to Fa'argruff, who responded by placing his hand on a seemingly blank space of air until the stone door began to reshape itself from the dust on the ground. The goblin then turned and began walking back up the hallway he came from. Albus and Tom followed and right when they turned the first corner, Fa'argruff was standing with an open wooden door that led back out into the main lobby of Gringotts. Once again bewildered, Tom followed Albus out and back towards the far end of the lobby to a set of double doors that opened when the goblin got within a few meters of it. Waiting on the other side was a single cart on a black-metal rail. Fa'argruff tapped it and the door opened and shut after Tom and Albus got in.

Just as Tom sat down, Fa'argruff pulled a long black lever and the cart sped backward into a dark cavern. Barely lit through unknown sources, Tom tried in vain to keep up with each turn, dip, and loop the cavern made until the cart came to a slow stop in front of a metal door on his left underneath a curved stone opening with the numbers 1290 engraved into it. Fa'argruff hopped out and stood next to the large iron door and waited for Tom to reach the door before holding up a small brass key and said gruffly, "This is the key to your vault. Do not lose this key, it will not be replaced and your wealth will be conferred to Gringotts Bank should you do so. If you wish to deposit funds, now is the time."

The goblin turned back to the door to the vault, placed the key inside a compartment hidden by a circular latch, and turned it 180 degrees until the door swung inward to an empty vault that smelled vaguely of rust and mortar. Dumbledore reached into his impossibly large trouser pockets and brought out a bag pouch twice the size of his hands and gave it to Tom. It was heavier than Tom imagined and he looked quizzically at Albus who was looking down, expressionless. Tom asked, "How much will I need for my school supplies?"

Albus pulled out a second pouch, a quarter the previous one's size, and replied, "This should last you until next summer, with a little extra just in case," and he handed Tom the second pouch. Tom then stepped inside, his steps echoing off the walls of the vault, and he gently laid the larger pouch on the ground inside before walking out. Similar to exiting the hallway to vault 2, the ride back in the cart was somehow much shorter and before he knew it, Tom and Albus were following Fa'argruff back into the lobby. Just after the goblin bowed and turned to return to his elevated desk, Tom blurted out, "How do you do it, Fa'argruff?"

The goblin sneered as he turned around, narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore as if there was an unspoken agreement between the two, glared at Tom as he grunted, "Do what, young wizard?"

Tom hesitated, wringing his hands for a moment before muttering, "Focus your magic without a wand?"

Offense briefly tainted the goblin's hardened features until he smirked at the boy and japed, "Already trying to learn the secrets of Goblin lore, young one? Is it not enough that your kind keep wandlore to themselves? That our lore and abilities come from necessity, rather than choice? Dumbledore, keep your charge in line or I will inconveniently burn the records of his vault." The goblin sneered once more, this time at Tom, before turning around and continued his slow but determined walk back to his desk.

Albus placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and gently guided him out the front door and back onto the bustling streets of Diagon Alley before saying to no one in particular, "It is best not to remind goblins of the slights we wizards have imposed on them. Nor is it wise to bring up the same to older wizards who still remember the events of the previous century. Now, I do believe our first stop should be Ollivander's," and he walked at a medium pace back up the street. Wanting to continue questioning Albus but also knowing the conversation was over, Tom followed until Albus opened a door halfway down the alley and beckoned him inside.

When Tom entered, he was initially disappointed by the state of the place, expecting yet another amazing feat of magic. Instead, he was only greeted by musty shelves haphazardly stuffed with long thin boxes and an equally dusty front desk that was cluttered with similar boxes of varied length and color. When Albus shut the door behind them, it also completely cut out the sound of the bustling street and now the only sound to be heard was a soft snoring coming from somewhere down the thin hallway behind and to the right of the desk. Tom accidentally dropped his briefcase and the thud it made was enough to stir the source of the snoring. After the sound of a dozen boxes falling off the shelves, a man with wild, wispy white hair to his shoulders skidded into place behind the desk.

Despite looking like he's in his mid-thirties, the dark circles and lines under his silvery eyes aged him greatly. The white button-down he was wearing with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows was tattered and stained with a variety of black, brown, and sickly yellow hues. His eyes widened when he looked from Tom to Albus and he yelled over his shoulder without breaking eye contact, "Father, Professor Dumbledore is about the feather again."

From behind a passage to the left, a much older, bearded, slightly hunched version of the same man behind the desk walked out a minute later with a hearty laugh. Reaching over to shake Albus's already outstretched hand, the old man said in a slight cockney accent, "I hope Garrick didn' leave yuh waitin' for too long. We were both up till the wee hours of the morning finishing up the wand. The boy nearly snapped the wood sample in half in excitement when we finally found the match for your feather a week ago. Speaking of which, odd as this may sound, the yew you provided and requested to be matched with the feather didn't take, much to Garrick's dismay after working so hard to prepare it for core-insertion."

Albus set his hand back on Tom's shoulder and said, "It is not a bother at all, Gervaise. I simply thought the two were tied since Fawkes perched on that yew for quite a while before allowing me to pluck a feather. But her feather did take, I take it? What kind of wood?"

Gervaise, stroking a beard that is slightly shorter than Dumbledore's, paused to smirk at Garrick, who was now nodding off with his head in his hands atop the desk, and replied, "You wouldn't believe it, I know I didn't when Garrick finally paired them. Last sample we had of it too. But, as soon as we touched that phoenix feather to a sample o' Willow, the damn thing started vibratin' like no other pair I've seen since the younger Scamander boy's Ash and Thestral Heartstring. An odd pair, that boy and that wand." Gervaise lightly knocked on the desk in front of Garrick and the younger man jerked awake and nearly fell backward. Gervaise then leaned over the desk to peer into Tom's dark green, curious eyes with his own pair of sharper silvery ones. With a raised eyebrow, and without breaking eye-contact with Tom, he asked, "So, Albus, who's the stray?"

Albus chuckled his response, "Forgive my manners. This…" He squeezed Tom's shoulder before continuing, "Tom, this is Garrick and Gervaise Ollivander. Their family has run the best wand shop in Europe…"

Gervaise knocked once on the wooden desk and interjected, "The world Albus. That cheat, Wolfe, don't count. Her people have an unfair advantage."

Albus chuckled again and resumed, "... in the world. Excuse me. They've run the best wand shop in the world for millennia. Garrick and Gervaise, meet Tom Riddle. He is a young, but quite prodigious, wizard under my care until he reaches Hogwarts. And he's here to buy his first wand."  
Garrick perked up as soon as he heard the word 'first', wiped some more slobber from his wet cheeks with a tattered sleeve of his white button-down, before saying, "Ah, my favorite. Father, may I?"

Gervaise roughly pat his son's back twice, guffawed, "He's all yours, my boy. Yell if you need me, I need a nap myself. Good to see you, Albus," and walked back down the hallway he came from.

Garrick reached over the counter with an open palm and said to Tom, meeting his gaze with a tired smile, "Hello, Mr. Riddle. I am Garrick Ollivander, but you can call me Mr. Ollivander." Tom shook the man's hand and Mr. Ollivander continued as he cleared off the desk, "Now, if you'd please step over here, I'll just need some measurements to find which wand will choose you. Simple process. Painless, mostly, I promise."

Mr. Ollivander led him along the right side of the long desk to a small open space in front of a maroon sitting chair and went to work with an ornate, yet slightly tarnished golden tape measure. At first, the man took down numbers regarding the lengths of different parts of Tom's arms (pit to elbow, elbow to wrist, middle and pinky finger size) but then he started to measure in odd places. After measuring the distance from one of Tom's earlobes to his sternum and then the open space between his eyebrows, Mr. Ollivander measured, of all places, a single black hair he yanked out of the back of his head.

Finally jotting down the final figures, Tom still standing in silent confusion, Mr. Ollivander magically vanished the parchment with a snap of his fingers and galloped down the hallway he originally came from. After a minute of box clatters and "OWs" from the hallway, Mr. Ollivander came quickly sliding back into the main area with a half-dozen thin boxes in one arm and the other wrapped around an arm of the rolling ladder attached to the tall shelving. After Garrick came back and dropped them onto the desk, Gervaise's voice boomed from his hallway, "You make another mess, boy, and it's wood stripping for a year."

Ollivander rolled his eyes and said under his breath, "40 years old and he never lets up." He then looked up at Tom and after unboxing one at random, he handed Tom a faded tan wand and said, "Let's try this out first, shall we?" Tom didn't take it at first, staring from the man's eyes and back to the wand until Ollivander reached a little farther and nodded for him to take it. Right when the wand touched Tom's palm, Ollivander opened his mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by the wand gushing out a fountain of black ooze onto the desk, which promptly began to sizzle and deteriorate the wood.

Albus quickly waved his wand and the ooze disappeared, leaving a burned scar in the wood of the desk, before taking a seat in the sitting chair in the corner. Ollivander quickly took the wand away and snapped it half in front of them and groaned, "I told father not to trust that man. Never trust a man who brings in a giantess's hair and claims the Ottomans used it for their staves. Anyway…"

As he pulled out another wand and held it out for Tom, this one long and dark red, he cheerfully said, "One of my own make. 13 inches, Red Oak, a little temperamental but quite powerful with its Dragon Heartstring core." Again, Tom reached out, this time even more hesitant. When nothing happened, he thought about summoning one of the boxes on the shelf as he flicked it, and, like a bullet, the box came shooting at him. Tom ducked just in time and if not for Ollivander himself stopping it midair with his magic, it likely would have gone out the window and onto the main street of Diagon Alley

Tom gently set the Red Oak wand back on the counter and muttered so no one could hear him, "Worse temper than me." Ollivander turned around to the shelf directly behind him and after scratching his scruffy face he snapped his fingers and a box near the top shelf soared into his hand. As he opened the box and handed an ebony wand similar to Dumbledore's to Tom, he hesitantly said, "Okay. Third time's the…"

Right as Ollivander is about to finish, a blue flame soared out of the wand and nearly burned him alive. Tom immediately dropped the wand and started to shake. A flash of green light invaded his vision and his eyes began to water. Albus leaned forward in his chair and dispelled the small fire spreading on the desk and the bookshelf a meter behind it but didn't get up as Tom silently sobbed. Doubt and anger took over Tom's thoughts as he stood there, subconsciously waiting for Albus to come and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. But Albus didn't move, his eyes transfixed not on the wand on the floor but on the top of Tom's head. Mr. Ollivander sneaked a peek over his desk before standing straight and brushing off a charred part of his shirt's collar. When he looked down and saw Tom, he leaned completely over the desk to lift the boy's chin and consoled, while looking straight into Tom's wet eyes, "The wand chooses the wizard, young Tom. It is not you, these wands are just meant for different owners. Except for that "giantess hair". That one deserved to be broken, the fake."

Tom sobbed a little more as Albus got up and whispered something into Garrick's ear, who recoiled before he nodded and bellowed down the left corridor, "Father, bring out the Willow. Maybe she'll work for the boy!"

After a couple of minutes of painful silence, Albus returning to his chair and Tom standing still with his eyes closed and facing the floor while trying to stifle tears, Gervaise Ollivander re-emerged from with a slightly smaller box than the rest. It had a fire-red and intricately drawn feather on the pearl-white cover of it and Tom's eyes immediately snapped open and turned up to see it. Albus, sitting with his hands rested under his chin, raised an eyebrow and smirked as Gervaise lifted the cover and brought out the wand it contained. Dumbledore and Tom both studied the wand, which was made of a beautiful dark-brown wood with a negative-space feather of the same color as the box's adorning the handle. Gervaise came around the desk and out the gate to stand directly in front of Tom and handed it to him, his eyebrow raised.

Even before Tom took it, he felt that same sense of warmth he got from Tom the barman's Patronus and when Albus held out his hand for Tom the first time. When he gripped it, that warmth amplified and he knew exactly what to do. He pointed at the deep scarring of the desk caused by the first wand and, with all his mental might, wished for it to mend. A deep red flame burst from the wand and Tom was struck with a fear that immediately turned to confusion when he realized it wasn't hot and the flame didn't seem to do further damage to the desk. Instead, when the unknown spell faded, the desk looked like it was just made. All of the dust and grime that coated it vanished.

Tom looked down at the wand and smiled before turning to Gervaise, Garrick, and Albus, who were all standing in amazement at the boy who just fully repaired a magically scarred desk. Garrick was the first to speak as he said with a hesitant laugh, "Quite supple, 12 and a half inches of hard Willow, and my first use of a phoenix feather. Provided by none other than Professor Dumbledore here. Did you…"

Albus shook his head and grinned broadly as he said, "I did not. I did wonder, as I am sure Gervaise did as he brought it over, but I never even thought Willow and Phoenix Feather would match. Hence why I brought the yew samples. No, had I known this wand was meant for this boy I would have brought him far sooner. Far, far, sooner." He then knelt down and finally placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and said, "Now that, Tom, is magic I have never seen before. Congratulations. You are now officially a wizard."

Gervaise, a curious look on his face as he stared at the wand in Tom's hand, muttered just loud enough for his son and Albus to hear, but not Tom, "To channel the feather itself into a spell… not even I have seen such a thing." He gave a sideways glance to his son, who subtly shrugged, and locked eyes with Dumbledore before going back behind the counter and saying over his shoulder, "Alright well, great magic out of the way, ring up the boy so we can get back to work."

Mr. Ollivander took a moment to regain composure and return to his place behind the counter. Bringing out a small strip of parchment from a compartment in the desk, he stammered, "Right. Okay. Yes. So, one willow wand with phoenix feather core, a little more pricey than normal, but seeing as the core was a gift to us from Albus here, I'll dock off some Galleons. Drop the 1, carry the 5, minus cost of desk. That'll be 10 Galleons even. That'll be the big gold ones, Tom."

Tom pulled out the small pouch Albus gave him in Gringotts and took out 10 of the large gold Galleons as requested. Albus squeezed his shoulder before nodding to Garrick and concluded, "Thank you for your help today, Garrick. Always a pleasure to see you and your father. Give George my love. I hope her hunt for another unicorn hair goes well."

As Mr. Ollivander bid them a good day and led them back onto the busy streets of Diagon Alley, Tom felt, for the first time, a sense of purpose: he really wanted to learn to cast that spell again.


	5. Express, Extended

After leaving Ollivander’s with a new, curiously powerful wand, the only thing Tom wanted to do was find a quiet place to be alone with it to break things and practice that spell until he could get it again. However, he knew Albus had other places to be so he gently put the wand in the front pocket of his trousers and followed Albus. Albus led the way down the street to a quaint, maroon building called Flourish and Blotts.   
Packed floor to ceiling with books both orderly and haphazardly placed on shelves, floors, and various stands, people of all ages, colors, and sizes congested the bookshop. Students and parents alike scoped the shelves for the year’s required reading while other patrons weaved their way through the crowd just to check out at the desk in the rear of the shop. Tom often imagined just how much magical knowledge there was in the world, especially after visiting Merlin’s vault with Dumbledore. But now, with access to such knowledge, he felt a combined sense of fear and excitement. He would never be able to finish them all.  
Just like the outside street, passersby often stopped to shake Albus’s hand or otherwise gawk at him, making Tom wonder just how famous his impromptu tour guide to the magical world was. At one point, a middle-aged man got into a fierce debate with Albus over the state of what he kept calling the “Theater of Europe” and whether it would reach England. Dumbledore, keeping his voice relatively calm, reassured the man on multiple occasions that a man called Hitler had little to no connection to Grindelwald and thus England was an unlikely target for their mutual expansion. He did however concede that a magical coalition amongst the world’s Ministries of Magic would be necessary to confront Grindelwald should the two aforementioned men make contact. Unsure of anything they were talking about, Tom stood silently invisible just behind Albus.  
After a few minutes trying to break loose, the other man finally let Albus go and Albus knelt to say to Tom while handing him a piece of parchment, “This is a list of the books you’ll need for this year. Would you like to explore the shop while you find what you need or would you like me to just grab them so we can leave and go to our next secret?”  
As much as Tom disliked crowds, which often made him feel just as invisible to them as the debating man by bumping into him every other minute, Tom knew he would regret not combing through these shelves to at least see what topics interested wizards. So, he raised his voice just a little to overtake the crowd and said, “I’d like to look around for a bit. Which subject do you teach, Albus?”  
Albus, turning the parchment into an origami dog that began gleefully bounding back and forth from one of Tom’s hands to the other, replied, “I teach Transfiguration. Turning one thing into another and back again.” Tom couldn’t help but smile and after a minute, Albus tapped the dog once more and it turned back into plain parchment as he said, “Don’t take too long, but enjoy your exploration.” He then stood back up and joined a group of parents standing in the corner, who all shook his hand and sat down in chairs he conjured from thin air.   
Taking a mental note for yet another spell he would want to practice once he had time, Tom looked down at his list and saw:  
A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
The Basics of Magical Defence by Arsenius Jigger  
The Standard Book of Spells Vol. 1 by Esther Goshawk  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
Magical Drafts by Arsenius Jigger  
One Thousand Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
A Magical History by Phoebe Adern  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
Looking up to note what little organization Flourish and Blotts seemed to have, he saw section names above a few shelves and went first to the one labeled ‘Magical Defence and Theory’. This section had a wide range of titles, from breakdowns of specific spells and alternative uses for known spells, all the way to theories on wand lore and defense. The sheer number of books just on defence alone made Tom wonder just how many spells there were, exciting him even more. One book he knew he would have to come back to get if he had enough money left was Power and Will: Theories on Spell Strength by Samuel Journeux  
Near the bottom of the last shelf in this section, he found a single new copy of Jigger’s The Basics of Magical Defence, along with many tattered and graffitied copies. His next stop was History where he easily found Adern’s book as well as many others written by her on various topics, though most revolved around goblin rebellions. Their titles alone, such as Reign of Terror: A Brief History of 1731, gave Tom the distinct impression that Adern wouldn’t approve of the goblin presence at Gringotts. After briefly stopping by the Potions section to pick up Jigger’s other book, he picked up a slightly-used copy of Scamander’s Fantastic Beasts and a new copy of Spore’s One Thousand Herbs and Fungi.   
The crowd getting larger, and having lost sight of Albus, Tom took a quick scan of the ‘Transfiguration’ section to grab Switch’s and Goshawk’s books and spent the rest of his time sitting in a chair and reading Sinclaire’s Take Flight: Phoenix Feather Wands and You. When Albus finally found him a half-hour later, it took a couple of minutes before Tom looked up and said, “Time to go?”  
His arms full of books he couldn't wait to dive into, Tom and Albus wove their way through the crowd and stood in line to check out. Sitting in a corner behind the checkout counter, her nose deep in a book titled Mysteries of Elf Magic by Ufora O’Haen, a girl the same age as Tom with tied back pitch-black hair and honey skin glanced up with her ice grey eyes and gazed at Tom for a few moments before smiling and returning to her book. When they finally make it to the counter, a woman of similar complexion but hazel eyes greeted Albus with the typical, gleeful greeting before shaking Tom’s hand as well when Albus introduced him. Tom silently paid her the 12 galleons he owed for the books before briefly locking eyes with the girl in the corner. After looking down to take a mental note of what she’s reading, he turned and weaved his way back through the crowd and exited the shop with Dumbledore.   
After Albus alleviated Tom from carrying the heavy books he just bought by conjuring a small basket on wheels that he then enchanted to follow a few feet behind them, they made brief stops to get Tom fitted for robes at Madame Malkins and pick up the rest of his supplies. Unfortunately for Tom, he already used much of his pouch of coins on the books and potions supplies, so he bought most of his other supplies, like his cauldron and ink pots, second hand. With his necessities seen to, Albus escorted him down a side-road to a colorful yet quaint building called Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop. Upon entering, a rotund and aged man heartily laughed and said in an echoing Scottish burr, “Albus, mah boy, back ‘gain are yeh? Mah most loy’l cost’mer, indeed. And yuh bring a wee bairn, too.”  
Albus chuckled and shook the man’s outstretched hand as he replied, “It is good to see you, Sileas. I see business is going well. I’m glad you moved here from Hogsmeade. Honeydukes was stiff competition. I bring with me a promising new wizard, Tom…” He looked down at the boy and pointed to Sileas as he continued, “... this is Sileas Sugarplum. Owner of the best sweet shop in England. Sileas, this is Tom Riddle. I am certain that in time he will come to rival my own reputation, if not overtake it. I have brought him here to enjoy your sweets as much as I do.”  
Sileas reached over the counter and roughly shook Tom’s hand as he assented, “Aye, that’s quite the praise for a lad jus’ startin’ out. Well, wha’ ken I ge’chuh?”  
Albus didn’t hesitate to answer, “I do believe a sample plate will do us just fine. And a large bag of Lemon Drops. I promised Minerva I would stop in before the term started. And a small bag of Pumpkin Pasties for me.” After paying for their treats and going outside to sit in a chair outside the shop, Tom looked down in awe as Sileas brought out a plate with an assortment like Tom had never seen before. Though Tom’s knowledge of candy was limited, due to not having enough money to buy any in the shops he would pass while exploring London, he knew he had never seen anything like these in the non-magical world. Little Chocolate Frogs hopped around the table. A small bowl of dark-red pudding bubbled and boiled, The little mints with different animals and objects etched into them intrigued Tom most.  
As Tom picked up and popped a mint with a picture of a frog in it, Albus gave a knowing smirk as Tom immediately, and uncontrollably began to ribbit loud enough to get the attention of a couple snogging in an alley down the way. Still smirking, Albus said, “And that is the final secret for today. A candy that gives the consumer a compulsive need to sound like the animal it has been enchanted to mimic. Quite ingenious magic, if I do say so myself, seeing as I helped old Sileas design them after I graduated from Hogwarts.” Both Tom and Albus laughed together as they each tried an owl, a lion, a wolf, and a parrot. After Albus ate the entire bubbling pudding because Tom wouldn’t touch it, Albus reached into his pocket to pull forth his pocket watch and frowned as he said, “Sorry Tom, it seems I am late for my meeting at the Ministry. I’ll walk you back to the Leaky Cauldron and be on my way.”  
When they made it back to the Leaky Cauldron, the sun was going down and the streets were a little less crowded. Inside the tavern, however, it was still bustling, if even a little busier than in the morning when they first left for Gringotts. Albus and Tom the barman helped Tom carry his things up to his room and inside there was a large brown trunk waiting at the foot of the bed with the initials ‘T.R.” in gold lettering near the clasps. Albus knelt down and with a pat on the younger Tom’s shoulder, he said, “Tom here agreed to give you his old trunk and even put on some new letters. You’ll need this for all your things, as well as the clothes you’ll get when you’re sorted into your house. Now, I have to go. Tom here will take you to King’s Cross on the First of September . I’ll see you at the start of term feast.”  
With a wink, Albus turned on the spot and vanished with a soft pop, leaving the two Tom’s alone in the room. The younger immediately began organizing his books in his new trunk as the elder stood and watched from the doorway for a couple of minutes before smiling and walking back downstairs to be with his patrons.  
Over the next few days before he would finally travel to Hogwarts, for some reason by train— this greatly confused Tom Riddle as he didn’t know why wizards would still use Muggle technology if they all had brooms or could teleport like Dumbledore could— Tom spent most of his time up in his room going through the massive, and often difficult to understand text, of Take Flight: Phoenix Feather Wands and You. Thankfully, a couple of days in, the Ollivander family stopped in while Tom was downstairs eating breakfast prior to the morning rush The Leaky Cauldron always seemed to have at exactly 7:43 am. When Garrick and Gervaise saw Tom sitting by the fire, they came over and said hello. With them this time was their red-haired matron and adventurous collector of woods and cores, who introduced herself in a slight Irish brogue, “Aye, good to meet you, Tom. I’m Georgine Ollivander, but just call me George. Garrick was just telling me on the way over how you mended our desk with your first ever spell. Gervaise says he hasn’t seen a first-timer do something so curious since the Whitlock girl got hers. The girl cast a charm that cleared all the dust in the entire shop in one swoop. It’s taken quite a while for it to get back up to reasonable levels; it just isn’t a wand shop if there isn’t a decade of dust on the more picky wands.”  
When George saw what Tom was reading and making notes in the margins of, she immediately summoned a nearby armchair and asked, “First-year and you’re already studyin’ wand lore?”  
Unsure of how to respond, Tom pulled out his wand and handed it to George. As soon as it touched her fingers, she sighed and said, “Now it makes sense…” Without warning, she slapped her husband, Gervaise, in the chest and exclaimed, “You forgot to mention the boy was using a phoenix feather wand, yuh dolt. And a Dumbledore phoenix at that! Still curious the man brings you in himself and it's HIS feather that just so happens to choose you. Very curious.” Turning back to Tom, she asked, “So, your wand does some amazing magic and you wanna figure out why? Did you have any questions? While these two dossers make the wands themselves, I’m the expert on the cores.”  
Beginning to open up, Tom began to twiddle with his wand as he began, “Something Sinclaire keeps talking about. The bond between the core and the wood itself. Your son said something about the feather not taking to any other wand wood except the last Willow sample they had. Sinclaire said phoenix feathers rarely choose any wood besides Holly and Oak. If this is true, why did it take to Willow, and also why did Albus bring in a sample of Yew if he knew it might not take?”  
George stroked her chin a couple of times and hesitated to answer before finally replying, “That’s a good one, boy. Fair play. Best answer I can give, as I am just as puzzled as you, is that the magical bond, that is the innate magic in both, just fit together. You know how puzzles work, Tom? Even though two pieces can be the same color and look like they’ll fit, sometimes the real pair is something completely different. Indeed, Phoenix Feathers often choose Holly, Oaks, and even the odd Sycamore. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of a Willow wood pickin’ a feather over a unicorn hair or a dragon heartstring. Dumbledore probably thought Yew would make a good match because both are powerful, if sometimes too powerful, by each other. It would make for a good experiment and I don’t think he had any intention of anyone using it but himself, anyway.”  
This left Tom with more questions than he anticipated, so, after he ate his eggs and sausage, he said goodbye to the Ollivanders and went back upstairs. When he was out of earshot, George turned to her son and husband with a raised eyebrow and said, “You said the boy sent ‘healing flames’ from that wand?”  
Finally, the morning of Tom’s journey to Hogwarts came and he had never felt better in his life. After spending the entire previous day practicing on the elder Tom as he worked the bar, he was finally able to cast, “Obscuro!” and created a black blindfold over the barman’s eyes. To Tom’s somewhat dismay, however, this did not keep the barman from being precise with his cocktails. He simply cast a non-verbal spell on the shakers, jiggers, and various glasses and bottles and they did all the work for him. The younger could have sworn he saw the elder wink right at him through the blindfold, too. The barman helped Tom pack everything up, including a few old potions textbooks of his own that he said had ‘funny marginalia’ from his attempts to make them just as effective with alcohol in them. The younger Tom wondered about the barman’s childhood but before long they got into a horse-drawn carriage and rode to King’s Cross.   
The coachman surprised Tom when he chose a route that would take them past Wool’s Orphanage. Tom’s only thoughts were that he was glad that his last memories of his former home were that of him moving on to a better life. One where he didn’t need to feel ashamed of his abilities, nor deal with hurting anyone else because he often couldn’t control them. Now that he had a wand that seemed to focus his every impulse, Tom believed he finally had a good grasp of his magical talents, and it showed as, hidden inside the carriage, both Toms made a game of who could keep the younger’s suitcase levitating for the longest. The elder cheered as, with much-pooled sweat on his brow, the younger kept the case aloft for a full 11 minutes before being distracted by the carriage nearly toppling over in a place where the cobbled roads turned into flat pavement.  
When they arrived at King’s Cross, Tom the barman brought out and handed young Riddle his ticket to the Hogwarts Express. On it, in large golden brown letters, read Platform 9 ¾, which puzzled Tom for a while until, when they finally arrived at one of the last brick pillars of platform 9, he witnessed something impossible: the young girl from Flourish and Blotts and her mother, the person at the desk, briskly walked through the pillar and out of sight. Before trying it for themselves, Tom the barman knelt to meet Tom’s eyes, his own soft, reassuring, and said, “Just walk quick, no sense gettin’ stuck in the in-between parts. Had a friend who did that once my fif’ year, nearly lost a leg, he did. Anyway, it was nice getting to know another Tom. I can see why Dumbledore is so interested in you. Good luck in your first year.” As he started to walk away, Tom said just loud enough for the barman to hear him over the busy platform, “Thank you… for the trunk!” The barman stopped for a moment without looking back and made his way down to the other side of the platform until about halfway down, he vanished the same way Dumbledore had twice before.   
Holding firm to the cart carrying his trunk, Tom started towards the same pillar the girl and her mother walked through before a small pack of louder boys came racing down the platform and nearly knocked Tom sideways onto the tracks a meter below. None of them stopped as they each ran through the barrier and to wherever it let out. Brushing off some gravel that imbedded into his knees, he put his trunk back onto his trolley and continued towards the pillar. Looking around to see if the coast was clear, with a single man in a sharp coat-tailed suit sitting with his hat over his eyes on a bench two pillars back, he closed his eyes and walked directly at the barrier. No impact came and just as Tom came through to Platform 9 ¾, a gust of wind buffeted his hair and he opened his eyes to see a magnificent scarlet and black train sitting and waiting for him to board.   
On the new platform, many parents were helping their children load their luggage into the rear cars, so Tom followed suit and then made his way down the many cars of the train to find an empty compartment. All along the way, he saw various groups of kids from all nationalities hanging out with their friends in similarly colored accented robes with green, yellow, blue, and red lining. Tom took note that as he continued down the walkway of cars, he rarely saw anyone with different colored robes in the same compartment. Most of the groups seemed to be wearing the same color, no matter the apparent age difference. After coming upon a set of empty compartments, he continued a little further to see if he could find the girl from the bookshop, but to his dismay, she was nowhere to be found. So, he went back and found an empty compartment, shut the blinds, and changed clothes into his new Hogwarts robes.   
Absentmindedly scratching at the wooden borders to the window and staring at the ceiling, he didn’t notice until it was too late that the same boys who nearly knocked him onto the rails back at King’s Cross were laughing and shoving each other as they entered his compartment to sit down. One of the boys, and his twin sister, noticed Tom sitting and trying to make himself as small as possible so they both sat directly across from him and, as if planned, they both said in unison, “Seen your boggart, first year?” The rest of the boys cackled at the joke but neither of the twins laughed as they stared at him. When Tom finally looked up, he was struck by their equally beautiful and fearsome appearance. Wearing matching green-lined black Hogwarts robes, both had identically short, black comb-overs and heterochromatic brown and electric blue eyes. When they locked eyes with Tom, the female twin said, “There he is. He has nice eyes, Apollo. Slytherin green.”  
The male twin, Apollo, looked to the one of the first-year members of their group, a boy with shaved sides and top of wildly curly brown hair and freckles underneath his soft hazel eyes, and said, “Look’s like we’ve found a friend you’re age, Lestrange.”  
The boy called Lestrange stepped forward and with his hand outstretched to Tom, said in a commanding tone, “I’m Lestrange, Rodulph Lestrange.” Not knowing how to escape the compartment without incurring whatever torture he couldn’t help thinking the twins would have in store for him if he tried, he went to shake Rodulph’s hand. The moment he touched it however, he saw the same flash of green as before. Standing still with his hand outstretched, each of the rest of the boys in the carriage walked forward and introduced themselves.  
“Avery, Ashwynn Avery, just Ash,” Flash.  
“Rosier, Aelwynn Rosier. Call me Win,.” Flash.  
“Nott, Cuthred Nott, just Nott to you” Flash  
And finally, “Mulciber. Axel Mulciber. The boys call me Axe,” Flash.  
With each handshake. Each flash, Tom grew sicker and sicker. Each one racked his chest with a pain he had never felt before. A pain that didn’t feel like it was his own. Tom’s thoughts bounced erratically back and forth from this unknown pain and why it felt so… foreign. After they all took their seats in the compartment and began talking, Tom’s heart began to pound in his chest. When he reached into his robes, he swore his wand pulsed in sync with his heart and this frightened him even more. Forcing himself to calm down as the train finally began to leave the station, Tom inadvertently fell into a deep sleep and plummeted into the same dream that haunted him at the orphanage.  
This time, however, it didn’t begin inside a babe’s nursery, or even outside the door. This time it started outside the front gate of the house as he looked into the living room window. Inside, a young man with round, rimmed glasses and untidy black hair was using his wand to make colored puffs of smoke for the amusement of his son, who was laughing on the couch in his blue pajamas. And then the woman came in and kissed her husband on the cheek, whispering some words in his ear before the man picked up his son and handed him off to his red-haired mother. What poor souls, Tom thought. To spill magical blood for the sake of his immortality. But it must be done.  
Tom moved forward and through a small painted white gate to the front door without anyone being the wiser. His pale white hand reached forward with his wand, long and off-white with what looked like a claw in the handle, burst open the door and walked into the entranceway. The fool of a father ran into the hallway without his wand and yelled at his wife, “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s Him. I’ll hold him off.”  
Without a wand, the man stood no chance. It made Tom laugh before he bellowed, “Avada Kedavra!” and with a flash of green that illuminated out the windows, the man fell dead to the ground. As he stepped over the body and began gliding up the stairs, he heard the woman screaming for help and mercy. He would give neither, her fate decided the day the prophecy was told. The second door upstairs exploded before him and with a lazy flick of his wand, he cast aside the boxes and chairs she mistakenly placed between him and his goal. Without a wand, she too was powerless before him. Then again, most WITH wands were also futile obstacles. Wasted magical potential, he often thought of them as he killed them.   
The woman held her baby tight to her chest as she begged him, tears waterfalling down her pale, admittedly beautiful face, “Not Harry! Please! Not Harry!”  
Tom raised his wand, pointing it at her chest, and in a sickly calm voice, he said, “Stand aside, you silly girl. Stand aside and your blood need not be spilt.”  
As if she didn’t hear him, which made him more furious, she continued to cry and yell, “Please, no. Kill me instead. Please, he’s just a baby. Not my Harry! Please, I’ll do anything!”  
Tom could just force the baby from her grip and end this here, in front of her, but then he thought it better to finish them all. Annoying avengers of family members proved unworthy, yet still persistent hindrances to his plan. He had warned her…  
With a bright flash of green, even brighter than the last, the woman collapsed just like her husband. As Tom rounded on the baby, it didn’t cry before him, as many had in his past to evade their fate for standing against him. Tom raised his wand a final time, carefully pointing it at the boy’s head, and sternly said, “Avada Kedavra.”  
And with a flash of green, pain unimaginable. Pain that the Tom on the Hogwarts Express felt as he awoke screaming at the top of his lungs, “NOT THE BOY!” A cold sweat flowing like the Thames down his face, Tom looked around in horror to see that each of the boys and twins stared at him in disgust, the twins with their fingers in each other's ears. Tom breathed heavy as he bolted out of the compartment and into the closest bathroom he could find. He wanted the pain in his chest to stop and as he started to dig his nails into his arms, the adrenaline kept him from noticing how far into his skin he'd gone. It wasn’t until he looked down and saw the blood pooling under his nails and shirt that he began to panic even more. Feeling his heartbeat as fast as a racing horse and as hard as the collision when Billy Stubbs pushed him down the stairs, Tom hyperventilated and cried from the pain of his chest and forearm inside the restroom, alone. He stayed there, quivering in a ball of agony until the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station.


	6. Feasts, Firsts, and Feats

Even after he heard everyone disembark from the Hogwarts Express, Tom stayed inside the lavatory for 5 more anxious minutes. The foreign pain in his chest didn’t even abate after he puked twice. The white dress-shirt underneath his robes was caked with a literal mixture of blood, sweat, and tears. The cheap pomade Tom the Barman had given him to part his hair had sweated itself out and now his hair hung limply over his dark green eyes. Tom had never experienced panic, let alone real fear in his life. There was a moment when Dumbledore found his trophies, but that was because he was unsure of what Albus would do if he didn’t return them. It was not an act he thought possible for him. Only for the other orphans.  
When Amy and Dennis were shaking and screaming with fear as he rowed them to his cave that day, Tom felt nothing of the dangerous waves and perilous rocks he somehow navigated through. Even when he was in trouble with Mrs. Cole for something he always denied, it was nothing but a brief hindrance. This… this guilt and pain were new. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t even do anything this time. It was just… Just a dream.   
Too many thoughts and questions bombarded his mind as he hastily tried to pull himself back together and get off the train unseen. Thankfully, all of the students were facing the opposite direction of where he got off as they all listened to a tall woman with squared spectacles and a booming, distinctly french accent, instruct them. After straightening out his robes and making sure every tear was dried off his now flushed face, he joined the large group of students and barely overheard the woman saying, “... First years vill not be on ze boats for long, everyone else, form a line and follow, s’il vous plait!”  
One larger group split off to get in carriages to the right while the other, much smaller group, went to the left and towards a set of small boats, oddly without oars or paddles of any kind. Tom hesitated as soon as he got to the boats. Someone would see the blood and now he was starting to cry and shake again, As the French woman guided them into groups on the boats, Tom clutched himself close and wiped his face again. As long he kept his arm hidden in his robes, he'd make it through. If this school had a nurse, he'd just say a dog got him or something when they got to the school.  
One after another everyone was grouped into the boats until Tom, the girl from the bookshop, and another boy with brown locks down to his shoulders were all that was left. The French woman smiled at them all as she pointed to the last boat at the very back of their procession. As they sat down and waited for whatever the French woman had planned, the girl from the Flourish and Blotts, specifically her piercing ice grey eyes, stared at Tom as she took her seat. She kept glancing from his face, which he was trying to get the color back into, and his hidden arm in his robes. With one swift motion, she pulled up on his robes to show the bloody right cuff of his shirt and then back down to hide it.   
Tom's eyes matched hers as they went wide with terror. The girl looked down to his other hand, which had blood drying underneath his nails and she closed her eyes and sighed. Taking out her ivory-colored wand, she whispered, "Episkey," on his forearm and the pain vanished instantly after a short burning sensation. As the boats began to move along the water as if pulled by an invisible rope, the girl tore a piece of her robes, dipped it in the water, and handed it to Tom without a word. Tom looked at her confused as he used it to clean away the dried blood from both his hands and then stuffed the wet cloth underneath the bench of the boat. When he was done, the girl straightened her robes and turned her gaze toward the massive castle now visible across the equally massive lake they slowly made their way across.  
Unsure of what to say, seeing as the girl who just healed him was now enamored by the admittedly beautiful sight at what could only be Hogwarts, Tom took off his robes to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt and feel the lake beneath them. He almost lost himself in how clear and beautiful the water was until he saw something large and iridescently glowing glide through the water. It had to be at least 50 feet down, but its natural glow was so bright that he could tell each time it would change colors. Tom turned to look at the bookshop girl and right as he was about to tap her on the shoulder, she turned around, locked her eyes with his, and said in an American mezzo-soprano that for a moment stopped Tom’s train of thought, “My name is Tula. Tula Wolfe. What have you found?”  
Tom pulled back his hand, kept her gaze, and said. “I’m Tom, Tom Riddle. I found a glowing animal in the lake.” Tula scooted back one row to sit next to him and he pointed down below as the glowing object was circling and rising at the same time. It no longer looked like a single thing but rather one giant object with 8 luminescent appendages swimming through the lake. Tula’s stoic face immediately turned to joy as she followed the huge glowing animal under the water. She grinned at Tom, her eyes again piercing into Tom and said, “I want to swim with it. Not today. But soon. Would you join me, Tom Riddle?”  
Tom couldn’t pinpoint what made him feel uneasy about her eyes, but every time she seemed to look at him, it’s like he could feel her in his head. He knew this wasn’t possible because he remembered the feeling of Albus searching for a lie when they first met. But it was unnerving enough that he had to drop his gaze back to the water as he answered, “Sure, Tula. Maybe after we both get settled in at school.”  
Tula started watching the green, blue, and purple lights on the animal shift with its form for another minute before she perked up and yelled over the chatter of the students between her and the French woman, “Professor Picard, Tom and I have found something in the water. What is it, and can we swim with it?”  
Everyone in the boat’s attention immediately shifted to the water as they all ooh’d and ah'd at the light as the animal was now rising high enough for it to reflect off their faces in a brilliant light show. Professor Picard stood on her boat and, pointing her wand to her throat, her voice boomed loud enough for all of them to hear, “Zat, my dear Ms. Volfe, is ze school’s resident giant squid. It is quite larger zan zose you’d normally find in ze ocean, as our lake eez quite ze ecological paradise. Vile it isn’t considered a magical creature like you’d find on our grounds, such az ze noble centaur or beautiful unicorn, it eez revered and cared for by ze merpeople. I have even heard tell zat our own Professor Dumbleedoore feeds ze squid by ‘and . Zat being zaid, I vould not think it vize to swim vith such a… hungry creature.” Undeterred, Tula looked back and winked at Tom before returning her gaze back to the now looming castle of Hogwarts ahead of them.   
After their boats magically parked themselves along a large dock, they all began a short climb up some stairs to the main lawn of Hogwarts. Far to the left of them as they continued across the large grass field in front of the school’s main entrance lied a gigantic and dark forest that itself seemed to consume the light of the moon to make itself darker. Many of the children ahead of Tom mumbled and murmured in both fear and excitement. Tom only managed to catch what they kept calling the ‘Forbidden Forest’. The only thing Tom did see when he looked back before entering the school, though it must have been a trick of the light, was a set of unnaturally white eyes appearing near the edge of the forest that promptly vanished into the night.  
Professor Picard opened the main door into a grand foyer that branched off into many directions but ultimately led them to a large set of stairs and the biggest door Tom had ever seen. Though it must have been centuries old, the intricate carvings on the wooden double doors and brass handles had character but remained unscathed by time. The professor stopped them all just outside as she waited for everyone to gather. When Tom and Tula, who had been gazing around at the many portraits that Tom was just realizing could move, finally joined them, Professor Picard raised her voice without her wand and said, “Velcome to Hogvorts School of Vitchcraft and Vizardry. Before ze opening remarks from Headmaster Dippet and ze start of term feast, you vill all be sorted into vun of 4 houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slyzerin. Vunce you are sorted, you may join your compatriots at ze appropriate table. No need to fear zem, introduce yourselves, and make ze friends. Now, Allons-y little ones. You von’t make good food for my pet Chimaera, Joan, at zis age! Must be at least a ssird year hahaha.”  
With a cackle, Professor Picard opened the doors to the Great Hall and Tom saw as hundreds of silent children of all shapes, sizes, and colors stared at their group as they filed down the middle lane between two large tables. Tom tried to avert his eyes to avoid contact with any of the older students, now little unsure if all wizards eyes had the same effect as Tula’s and Albus’s. As he was doing so, he noticed a fair amount of magic that he made a mental note to know more about: the floating candles, the swirling night sky on the ceiling, and the portraits in the room who clapped as his fellow first years entered the hall. Hogwarts was already a million times more interesting than Wool’s and even if it had the same annoying kids as the orphanage, Tom could see himself getting lost in the magic and secrets this place held.   
Though Tom was taller than most of the first years, he wasn’t able to see the hat on a stool past them until it started floating and singing a song he could barely hear for how far back he was. After it was done, the entire hall gently clapped and Professor Picard raised her voice once more, “Now, ven I call your names, come forth and zis Sorting Hat vill decide vich house you vill join, s’il vous plait. Ahem…   
She looked down at a floating parchment as she picked up the singing hat in front of her and exclaimed, “Ashvynn Avery”  
One of the boys who Tom met on the Hogwarts Express cheered and bounded up the line. As soon as he sat down he looked up at her and with a sneer heard around the room, Ashwynn said, “It’s pronounced Ash-Win, thank you.” Professor Picard’s smirked right back at him and with a swift snap of her wand, a magical zipper sewed the boy’s mouth shut and the entire hall erupted in laughter that lasted until an old man in the center chair at the long table at the back of the hall clapped twice and they went silent. Right when Professor Picard shoved the Sorting Hat on his head, it exclaimed, “Slytherin!”  
Unable to speak, Ashwynn loudly hummed through the zipper and cheered with his arms flailing up until the zipper disappeared and his voice cracked and everyone laughed again.  
Next up to be sorted was a little, slightly sickly looking boy called Alphard Black, who was also promptly sorted into Slytherin. Then, there was a long string of Hufflepuffs sorted, much to the great excitement for the table with the fewest people in them by a fair margin. One such new member was a blonde girl with a pixie cut named Ruphina Datchery, whose wand slipped out of her robes as she was getting off of the stool and it cast a spell that hit her square in the face. Tom and Tula both exchanged looks of horror as her face started to rearrange and bulge like the worst Picasso. While the transformation was brief, thanks to Albus’s quick spellwork, the girl still cried as she sat down with the Hufflepuff table, who promptly started consoling and handing her food and sweets they had hidden in their robes.   
After calm was restored and Datchery had stopped crying, Professor Picard cleared her throat and said, “Hopefully ze last ‘iccup. Now… Tarquin Alexander daf…. Excuse me... Tarquin Alexander D’auferio ze 4th.” As soon as she said his last name, the entire hall fell silent. Everyone, including Tom who now recognized something was going on, watched as a boy with close-cropped, wavy, fire-red hair and bright blue eyes sat lazily on the stool and grinned with the best smile Tom had ever seen. The hat didn’t even touch his hair before the hat bellowed, “Gryffindor, ex Merlini gravis, Gryffindor!”  
There was a palpable moment of silence, even among the staff who all leaned forward in their chairs, before the entire table of people wearing red-lined robes erupted in applause and cheers. Before he sat down, he walked along the entire table and shook each of their hands. He even had the audacity to walk straight up to Dumbledore and shake his hand, before finally sitting down right in the middle of the table.   
After a few each from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were sorted in a row, Professor Picard, with her eyebrow raised, said, “Piper Andriette Nobel!” Much to everyone’s surprise and amusement, a squat, balding man with a heavy handlebar mustache in oversized robes with a name tag that said in big white letters ‘Piper’ clamored his way up and onto the stool and smiled wide with their lips. Albus himself chuckled as the man’s face morphed before their eyes and a girl with almond skin, barely over the age of 5, now sat in the chair. When Professor Picard giggled and patted her on the back, the girl’s nose turned into a large seagull’s beak and the crowd once again erupted into laughter. After silencing the room once more, Professor Picard finally placed the hat on the girl’s head, and just like Tarquin it barely touched her head before it bellowed, “Slytherin, dear me, good luck Slytherin!” The girl stood and did a front flip off the stool before bowing and taking her place at the far end of the Slytherin table.  
One more of the boys from the train, Cuthred Nott, was sorted into Slytherin before Picard finally cleared her throat and said, “Tom Riddle”. Tom almost didn’t hear her, despite being one of the last children left to be sorted. He looked up at Albus, who gave him a simple nod, and Tom sat down on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. As it sat there, everything was silent. He didn’t know what to expect, seeing as everyone else’s sorting seemed to be faster than his. Finally, after a minute of sitting in silence, the room starting to murmur around him, Tom heard a voice in his head say in a raspy voice, “Oh, you’ve got quite the head on you, my boy. You’ve got the curiosity of the best Ravenclaws I’ve seen, but there’s also a healthy lust for power. Respectable. Achievable even. The lack of fear in most… Yes, most things. It is odd, your lack of fear isn’t from bravery, but necessity. Quite odd indeed. Yes… While you’ve got the mind, I do think you’re better in…”  
After a pause that lasted a century, the hat finally bellowed, “Slytherin!” and about a quarter of the Slytherin table applauded him while the rest sat in confusion as to why a pale boy with no notable heritage was chosen for their house. Tom took a seat towards the back left of the table and put his head down while the rest of the sorting continued. Rosier was sorted in Slytherin right after him, gaining the applause he didn’t. Elijah St. Claire was sorted into Gryffindor and when he joined the table, Tarquin gave him a great hug as they immediately started talking. A pair of female twins, the Spyders, were sorted into Hufflepuff. Marianne Whitherspoone went to Gryffindor and the only person left to be sorted was Tula.  
Tula stood alone in the center walkway of the hall with her hands clasped behind her back and a blank expression on her face. Tom wanted her to look his way but she didn’t waver as Professor Picard finally called her name, “Tula Volfe. Please come forvard, dear,” and Tula made her way up and gingerly sat on the stool with her hands in her lap. Whispers and murmurs filled the room, only some of which Tom caught and it had to do with her last name and a wandmaker from the United States. Tom was wondering how many others there were in the world besides the Ollivanders, as well as if any of them were as good, just as the hat was placed on Tula’s head. It was only a moment, a moment where Tom secretly hoped she’d be in his house, until she was ultimately sorted with a bellow from the hat, “RAVENCLAW. Oh yes, we’ve got a great one here. Ravenclaw, I say!”  
Without hesitation, the entire Ravenclaw table cheered and hooted as she joined them, without a glance back at Tom who subconsciously hoped her eyes would meet his but one more time. The old man in gold and blue robes in the middle of the staff table stood and with a wave of his hands, plates and platters of every kind of food appeared on the four houses’ tables. Nearby Tom there was a bowl of a decadent smelling stew, a platter of Pumpkin Pasties, and various meats and cheeses he didn’t recognize. Unsure of what to eat first, he filled his plate with a healthy mix of everything he could reach and then took a couple of Pumpkin Pasties and put them in his pockets. He wanted to share one with Albus before he went to bed.   
While everyone else chatted and caught up with each other for the next hour or so, Tom sat quietly and daydreamed about what his classes would be like. He was most interested in Potions and Transfiguration but he also knew he would do well in Defense Against the Dark Arts. If he could already do the spells he did at the orphanage, he could only imagine how great he would be with his wand and a good teacher. Finally, it was time for everyone to go to their dormitories and Tom followed a pair of older Slytherins down a series of winding, descending corridors and stairs until Tom felt a new sense of damp and dark that reminded him of the alleys of London on a rainy day. It was also noticeably colder and it wasn’t until they went down one last corridor lined with stone snakes and floating candles with green flames that his hands started to warm up.   
As their group came to a stop, the female leading them down through the dungeons raised her voice, “I am Prefect Frances Wilde, and this is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Unlike the pompous Ravenclaws, dullard Gryffindor’s, or those food hoarders in Hufflepuff, we pride ourselves on ambition, cunning, but most of all our ability to succeed at all costs. In that manner, the first password you must memorize should you wish to enter unassisted, and I guarantee you won’t be should you be stranded, is Magical Might. For, what is the point of being sorcerers if you can’t use it to your advantage.” Tom couldn’t agree more.  
With that, she recited the password at a black-wooden door and it swung inward. As Tom stepped in, he was struck by how simple and yet beautiful this main room was. As if encased in a reverse fishbowl, animals swam just outside the floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded the common room. Black leather couches and many circular tables dotted the floors and were accented by antique pottery and finery on peripheral shelves. On either side were two descending staircases that Tom deduced were the male and female common rooms judging who was entering and exiting as he stood in awe. This was his new home. And it was perfect. Even if those boys and the creepy twins lived here too, he could see himself spending all of his time outside class on one of those couches as he solved spell problems or studied potions.  
Tom’s long train of ecstasy was interrupted when the male lead of their group, a long-haired boy who introduced himself as Al Renaud spoke up, “First years, come get your schedules from the table. Class starts bright and early and if any of you lose us any points in your first week, I will personally hunt you down and tie you to a quidditch post and conveniently miss the hoops. We lost the house cup last year because of a first year, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”  
Tom joined the queue and when he picked up his schedule for the first term he saw:  
Monday  
Double Charms with Hufflepuff  
Transfiguration with Gryffindor  
Lunch  
Astronomy with Gryffindor  
Tuesday  
Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff  
Double Potions with Gryffindor  
Lunch  
Herbology with Hufflepuff  
Wednesday  
Double History of Magic with Hufflepuff  
Lunch  
Flying Lessons with Gryffindor  
Transfiguration with Gryffindor  
Thursday  
Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff  
Lunch  
Transfiguration with Gryffindor  
Herbology  
Friday  
Charms with Hufflepuff  
Potions with Gryffindor  
Lunch  
History of Magic with Hufflepuff  
Astronomy with Gryffindor  
As Tom scanned up and down the parchment with his schedule on it, he noticed the one thing he was hoping for was missing: a class with Ravenclaw House. Tom wasn’t the only one who noticed this as a tall, balding man in an undersized and bulging Slytherin robe asked, “Oh, my dear boy, I’ve just noticed we don’t have any classes with any Ravenclaws. Why’s that?”  
After a stifled laugh, Al said “Ah, I see the real Professor Slughorn was correct, we did get the clown of a metamorphmagus in our new batch. Yes, and you should be glad for it. Those suck-ups are who we lost to last year, thanks to a particularly annoying 7th-year girl who I am glad to be rid of. Now…”  
Just then, another man, with the same voice as the person who asked about the schedule, “Oh yes, my dear child, that is quite a good copy. Should have thought of the robes though, I’m afraid. My belly isn’t much suited for someone with your robe size. Now, I assume you are Piper Nobel?”  
The other balding man promptly turned their face into that of a seal and with a thundering roar, it nodded its head as everyone in the room laughed, including the other old man. The man who just entered gently clapped and said, “Now, why don’t you let me see your real face? While I find it amusing that your parents were smart enough to sew your name into your robes, I’m afraid that while you are in my class, I will not allow such tomfoolery, no matter how much of a jester you may be.”  
The seal faced man shrunk down and as the robes slacked, standing in its place was a person Tom couldn’t tell was a boy or a girl. They had short black hair, in the same style as Tom’s but without any product to keep it in place. They were slender, if a little bony, which showed as their robes were now quite loose on their shoulders. What struck Tom the most was how mesmerizing their eyes were. While their right eye was gunmetal blue, the left, as if cut in half at an angle, was half hazel on the bottom and half gunmetal blue on the top . Right when they transformed, they hastily massaged the skin over this odd eye and sighed with hidden relief. Tom was certain he was the only one to notice. The man walked up to them and said, “That’s better, isn’t it, Piper? I, the man you so expertly morphed into I might add, am Professor Slughorn. Your talents, especially at such a young age, inspire me. I intend to to host a club once a month for students I find… interesting. Would you like to come? I would love to see more of your abilities, as well as talk about your grandfather. Oh yes, even in our world he is quite famous. Can I expect to see you there?  
Piper gave a smile Tom knew to be fake, as he had used it through his whole time at Wool’s, and said, “I’d rather not talk about Pops. Still not a fan of him. And, respectfully, Professor, I’m not your plaything. I’ll come, but I’m not going to be your circus act to show off to whatever dips you bring.” Taking in the stunned silence like ambrosia, which included Slughorn as he stood there slack-jawed, they turned to Frances Wilde and asked, “So, seeing as I’m neither boy nor girl, which one do you want me to sleep in? I’ll sleep on the couch if you like too. Not above roughing it.”  
Frances, stuttering for a moment as she too didn’t expect what Piper did, responded, “Uh… Uhmmm… I mean, your choice… I guess.”  
Piper looked at their fellow first-year boys, briefly passing over Tom, and said, “They look like the type to do weird stuff when I’m asleep. I’ll take the girls and go from there.” They turned on their heel, turned their face into a seal again to roar so loud Tom thought it might break their glass enclosure, and skipped down the stairs to the left into the girl’s dorm.   
The silence in the common room lasted for a full minute after they left until the male Woode twin, Apollo, spoke up, “I for one like her. No offense, Professor, but she, they, whatever they are, will fit right in here. I wonder how good their impression of Dippet is?”   
After everyone had their schedules, Al showed the first-year boys their dorm, which was filled with 4-poster beds draped and bedded with Slytherin logos. After Telling them curfew was in an hour, Al left and Tom went over to his bed where he found a new set of Slytherin themed clothing sitting on top of his trunk. Tom immediately changed into his pajamas, closed the curtains to his bed, and pulled out his copy of The Standard Book of Spells Vol. 1 to read before sleep. His bed was a little too comfortable compared to his one at the orphanage but without even meaning to, he fell asleep halfway through the book’s introduction.  
The following morning, Tom was the first to wake among the first years and was happy it turned out this way. He wanted to leave the dorm before those boys from the train woke and he was especially curious about the rest of the school. Since their dorm was underground and was surrounded by what Tom assumed was the lake, he didn’t know what time it was until he crept up the stairs to the common room and saw on the central, ancient grandfather clock in the room that it was only 6:30 am, which gave him an ample hour and a half to get a quick breakfast from the Great Hall and then go exploring. As he was about to leave, he noticed a single, older boy splayed out on the couch snoring like a walrus with papers and tomes of varying age sprawled on several small tables around him. He didn’t wake as Tom quietly walked out of the room and back into the dungeons.   
Careful to retrace his steps back to the Great Hall, Tom climbed the many flights of stone steps back until he opened the door into the entrance hall. He didn’t see any students until he opened the great hall and was surprised to see at least a dozen older students already hard at work both eating and scribbling notes on parchment. Tom scanned the area and didn’t see any Slytherins. The vast majority of the early risers were Ravenclaws. When he looked up to the main table at the back where the professors sat, he saw the only teacher at it was none other than Albus Dumbledore, who met his eye as soon Tom looked at him and waved him over while he was eating something out of a bowl and reading a paper.  
Tom hesitated as he walked up the hall, hoping none of the other students noticed— none of them even looked up from their work— and stopped in front of the table as Albus, not taking his eyes off his paper that Tom noticed seemed to be moving around just like the many portraits he walked passed on his way here, said, “Ah, good morning, Tom. I trust sleep found you well? Our beds are quite the comfort compared to that poor excuse for a mattress you had at Wool’s. Join me, won’t you?”  
With just a flick of his finger, Albus summoned a purple cushioned armchair on Tom’s side of the table and as Tom sat down he asked, “Umm. Al…. Professor… Shouldn’t I be down there with the students? I don’t want them to think you know me, not yet.”  
Albus, eyes still fixed on the paper as he turned to the next page, said, “What would you like for breakfast, Tom? Simply say it out loud and the elves will summon it right to you. I myself fancied a relatively new muggle phenomenon called ‘cereal’. It is like porridge but you pour cow’s milk over it. I’ve added some honey to mine and it is quite delightful.”  
Tom, growing a little fidgety in his chair reiterated, “Sir… I really think I should be down there. I don’t want… I really don’t want them to know about…”  
Albus, averting his eyes from the paper to lock with Tom’s, probed, “Are you ashamed you came from a muggle orphanage, Tom?”  
Unsure of how to answer, Tom lowered his voice and said, “I.. I want my magic to speak for itself here… They don’t need to know my parentage or that you helped me get here.”  
Albus, giving a quick smile, turned his gaze back to his paper and said, “I can respect that. However, never be ashamed of your past, Tom. Take it from an old man whose past would make you wither away, our pasts are what help us create better futures. I often find that balance in that, and many other respects, is crucial. Off you pop. I shall see you at noon.”  
As Tom stood up, the chair beneath him vanished and he moved back towards the end of the Slytherin table just as another small group of Ravenclaws joined their housemates. Following the lead of one who said, “Eggs benedict and 3 squares of toast, please. Also blackest coffee you’ve got,” Tom “ordered” a plate of sausages, eggs, and jellied toast. Almost as soon as he said ‘toast’, it appeared in front of him on a wooden platter, along with a small glass of a dark orange juice and a small glass and pitcher of water. It was the best meal Tom had eaten in his life.  
After finishing up, making sure to leave as little a mess as possible, he looked around to see if there was a place to take his dishes and in the time it took to sweep the room, the dishes disappeared under his nose. Almost disappointed he didn’t see it happen, Tom gathered his book bag and walked out of the Great Hall, hanging a left and continued down a long corridor until he came to something he had never seen nor ever imagined possible: a towering set of staircases that moved on their own. Tom struggled to keep track of how each one moved and as he came close, one such set of stairs slid into position at his feet. Wondering how he would navigate this maze of stairs, Tom nearly lost his footing as the one he was currently on detached from the floor and started rotating and ascending until it connected with another static set of stairs on the second floor.   
Tom quickly disembarked and hopelessly followed each set that he thought might join with this one until he realized that there was a short walkway next to him that led to another platform where, every so often, a moving staircase would connect for a few seconds before leaving it again to go either up or down. Walking to this new platform, Tom waited until one that he thought would take him up to the third floor passed by and he jumped on. However, his choice was wrong as this staircase continued ascending past the third floor’s door and up to the 8th floor. Disgruntled and now a little annoyed, Tom climbed down to the next platform and then, taking his time to study the patterns of the stairs floating around, he pinpointed one that would take him from the 8th floor down to exactly the third. Waiting nearly a minute for this cycle, he jumped onto the stairs and with delight watched as it carried him down and stopped on the third floor. Tom knew that this mystery of the castle was one he would be ecstatic to one day solve as he opened the door to the third-floor corridor and continued to walk until he found a long classroom with a single occupant sitting at a desk on a raised platform ahead of two opposing sets of three rowed desks and benches.   
The woman, whose brown hair was loosely tied into a bun as she scribbled on a long piece of parchment that reached the floor, didn’t seem to take notice of him as he walked in until he accidentally dropped his bag as he was sitting down in the back row at the front of the room. The woman smiled as she looked up, her eyes a bright shade of sea green. She was younger than Tom thought she would be, and said in a cheery Irish brogue, “Well now, yer’ a bit early there, Tom! Glad you made it, though. Those stairs have claimed many a first-year so I generally don’t take away points for tardiness the first day.”  
Passing over how she seemed to know his name, Tom said, “Yeah. The first one I walked on took me to the 8th floor, so it took some time to learn it a little. I’m gonna learn the whole pattern over lunch, I think. Do you teach Charms?”  
The woman smiled wider and said, “You sure you aren’t supposed to be in my house? Only person to learn it faster than me was Dumbledore himself. Yes, I’m Professor Whitlocke and I am the Charms master. I have your house and the Hufflepuffs first, I think. Dumbledore tells me you’re a quick study. How far ahead are you?”  
Tom’s cheeks flushed for just long enough that Professor Whitlocke sniggered and he answered, “Uhmmm… Hopefully not too far. I haven’t read the theory books yet, but I did practice a little before the start of term.” Taking off his robes and rolling up his sleeves, Tom took out his want and cast, “Tergeo.” The inkpot on her dusk slowly became empty as its contents slowly siphoned out of it and hovered in mid-air. As Tom started to sweat with concentration, having only succeeded at this spell once before while staying at the Leaky Tavern, Professor Whitlocke cheered and whistled with her fingers as Tom slowly put all of the ink back into its well.   
After Tom wiped the sweat from his brow, Whitlocke set her quill back into the refilled inkwell and said, “You’re already halfway through the year, with that spellwork. And you did all that in just a few days? I might have to re-enchant that old hat of ours. It should have put you in my house. As much as I don’t like it, take 20 points for Slytherin and another 5 for getting it all in without a drop on the floor. Now, if you can sit quietly until yer’ mates get here, I’ll letcha stay while I finish up some corrections to the syllabus. My, I can already tell this is going to be a good year. Havin’ a new student like you,” and she returned to her work.   
Tom pulled out his quill, ink, and a short roll of parchment as he waited for another half hour and students started to trickle in. A few minutes after the boys from the train, sans twins, came in, a squat goblin with a purple mohawk and overlarge Slytherin robes stomped their way in and looking up with a similar smile as the one she gave Tom, Professor Whitlocke said over the chattering students taking their seats, “I’m afraid I have the same rules as Sluggy, Nobel. As thrilling as it would be to teach a goblin, change back please.”  
Piper stuck their tongue out, which was abnormally long and forked, and transformed back into their ‘normal’ body. This time, however, their hair still had the purple mohawk. They took their seat at the closest possible desk to Professor Whitlocke and unpacked their things as Professor Whitlocke said loud enough for everyone to hear and stop talking, “Welcome teh Charms, ickle firsties. I’m Professor Corra Whitlocke. You ken address me as Professor only. If yeh call me ma’am, I will petrify yuh and leave yuh on The Orphaned Step. Now, in this class, you’ll be learning the basics of charmwork. Anything from levitation to the unlocking charm. Basic stuff I could do with my mouth sewn shut and hands chopped off and drinking tea by their lonesome. Today, however, I am simply going to hand out the syllabus and go over some magical theories and concepts. While I must admit they are the most boring part of charmwork, theory is also essential for understanding how you, your wand, and what you are attempting to manipulate interact with magic.”  
With that, she conjured 21 sets of parchment that each had an outline of the course’s goals, which spells they should be able to cast by the end of the term, as well as which definitions and magical theorems they should have memorized. After reading it through with them, Professor Whitlocke began a quick overview of a few concepts within magic and Tom took careful notes to ensure he missed nothing. It may not be as exciting as actually casting spells, but Tom admitted that he wanted to consume all the magical knowledge he could.   
The rest of Tom’s first week continued like this. Even in Transfiguration, Professor Dumbledore didn’t have them casting any spells. All he, and the other professors, let him do beyond taking notes as they lectured was practice different wand movements and try not to poke each other’s eyes out. The class Tom liked the least because there was little relevance to magic at all, was Astronomy. Tom stayed up every night that first week practicing what spells he did know, which now included the Lumos and Nox spells, from the comfort of his bed. He even tried ordering odd foods he had only ever seen in the windows of posh restaurants he passed by in London. It was by far the best week Tom had ever had and as he fell asleep on that Friday, ready for a free day to explore the grounds even more, a rare smile stayed on his face.


	7. A Welcome Change

Chapter 7: Heart and Hearth  
Taking advantage of his new hideaway, Tom spent most of his time outside class between October and December inside the magical room on the 7th floor with Piper. Their favorite thing to do when they finished doing classwork was to test its seemingly endless summoning capabilities. Instead of going to the Halloween feast, they spent the night scaring each other half to death with the room’s constructed variations of a haunted house. Having already tested whether the room could summon anything living, which it couldn’t, both Tom and Piper took advantage of their recent classes in Defence Against the Dark Arts for inspiration. 

Tom used a mixture of ghoul dummies and the help of a headless ghost named Hugh the Headstrong, who laughed with Tom at the irony of his name and agreed to help. Tom rolled on the floor as he laughed at Piper’s horrified reaction to Hugh chasing them through a maze while popping around random corners and screeching ghost related puns like, ‘C’est la vie’ and ‘Can you point me to the living room?’. 

Piper, however, pulled out all the stops and filled their labyrinth with stunning recreations of Inferi and Dementors along with having the room make certain atmospheric changes depending on where Tom was in the maze. The Inferi room was damp and Tom nearly cast ‘Expulso’ after resting his hand on what he thought was a wall but instead was the somehow slimy yet dry-cracked skin of a fake Inferi.

While they weren’t allowed to summon anything living, they did find that, as long as they were specific with portions and the names of foods, they could summon meals to their hideout as well. After their runs through their respective mazes, Tom and Piper summoned healthy portions of spooky themed entrees and drinks. A bowl of pumpkin juice that gushed out of a real pumpkin like an open wound. A rack of pork ribs shaped like the bony chest of a human. A platter of deviled eggs with yolks designed like a veiny eyeball. Piper cackled and nearly choked on their pumpkin juice when Tom asked, his mouth coated with flecks and sauce from the ribs, “Oh great Room of Requirement, we beseech thee to bestow upon us two Knickerbocker Glories. The berries like clotted blood. The syrup like the murkiest petrol. The cream frothed like that of a poisoned man. All inside a chocolate waffle cone like frostbitten skin. Thine powers art most respected.”

Tom and Piper’s stomachs ached and moaned after they failed to finish the dessert. Though he never said it, under the suspicion that Piper would immediately reject it or change the subject, Tom was grateful for their newfound friendship and hideout. 

Tom’s obsessive spell practice began to show signs of improvement as the harmfulness of his spells and his ability to reverse them afterward. On the Wednesday before the end of term, which also happened to be the winter solstice, Tom and Piper were practicing various spells on each other during lunch while they waited to go to Transfiguration with the Gryffindors. Piper smiled wide as they hit him with a particularly powerful Tickling Charm, which made him laugh so much that he couldn’t catch enough breath to counter it. When Piper finally dispelled it between their own fit of laughter, Tom knew he wanted to test a new spell he had come up with that made a variation on Vindictus Viridian’s Slug-Vomiting Charm. So, standing up with a smirk, Tom leveled his wand at Piper and said, “You ready, Pipe? This one’s gonna suck.”

Piper smirked in-kind and gave the “bring it” motion before throwing off their robes and giving Tom a wide target with their chest puffed out. Mentally making sure he didn’t cause too much damage, Tom took a deep breath and cast, “Anguila Eructo!”

After a flash of sickly green light enveloped Piper like a silk blanket, nothing happened. Piper laughed for a few seconds and was about to cast a spell of their own before a mixed look of dread and instant regret invaded their face as they doubled over to their knees and began to dry-heave. Tom stood in shock as Piper began to choke and a writhing mass visibly squirmed its way up their throat and out their mouth. A small black snake with green stripes hissed as it exited Piper’s mouth and they finally got air with heavy coughs. Tears of pain in their eyes, Piper gasped, “Locomotor Liber!” and a heavy book shot at Tom’s head but missed as he ducked at the last second. With another repugnant sound from their stomach, Piper vomited up another snake and again gasped for air as Tom ran over to give them a bucket and a tall glass of water.

Tom focused his mind and with an affirmative, “Finite,” Piper finally began to take deep, exasperated breaths. After a few gulps of water, they sat up, punched Tom hard on the shoulder, and said, “Merlin’s left nut, Tom. Next time you want to make me a test dummy, tell me first. Blimey. That sucked.” With a sigh of relief and another gulp of water, they continued, “Where’d you learn that one, you barmy arsehole?”

Tom sat down with Piper and answered, “Professor Viridian, a former headmaster here if you can believe it, wrote a book of curses. That’s where I found the one I used on Ro-doofus, the hair loss one. Mind, it was only supposed to make a clump of hair fall out, not the whole crown of his head. Anyway, he also created this spell that makes the target vomit up slugs. So, I thought, if I just changed the first part of the incantation to that of a snake, it might work.”

Piper gasped out a laugh and japed with a poke to Tom’s ribs, “Next time, maybe don’t make me choke on a damned snake? Save that one for annoying kids, like Lestrange and Avery… Anyway…” Piper looked up at the lone grandfather clock in the corner and immediately got up to pack their things and said, “We’re gonna be late for Transfiguration. Let’s go.” Tom hastily packed up as well, made sure the coast was clear up and down the 7th floor corridor, and left with Piper as they raced down to the first-floor. 

Just before they were about to enter the already in-session classroom, Tom looked down at Piper’s green and brown stained dress shirt and whispered, “ You’ve got vomit on your shirt, here.” Pointing to the stains with his wand, Tom cast, “Scourgify,” and they hurried inside only to find Albus turning around from a group of students with a curious look. All of the other students, grouped in mixed-house pairs and huddled over small starlings perched on stands atop their desks, turned to look at them as well. 

Locking eyes with Piper and Tom in turn before turning back to one group, Dumbledore said, “Excellent use of the Scouring Charm, Mr. Riddle. However, you and Mx. Nobel are quite late, so I will say only 10 points from Slytherin for tardiness. Now, Riddle, perhaps you may lend some help to Mr. Reymund here. Piper, you may go with… Mr. D’auferio in the corner. We are taking a small leap in transformation spells to cover the Vera Verto spell.”

Having already mastered this spell while he was practicing in their hideout, Tom and Piper exchanged a look of confidence and slipped each other a five before walking to their respective partners. Tom set down his bags and robes and as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he raised an eyebrow as the starling Reymund had turned into a clock opened its face to let out a soft, agonized call. Tom giggled a little at the Gryffindor boy’s incompetence and puffed dirty-blonde hair as he asked with a wry grin, “You alright, Reymund? Do you remember the counter-spell?”

Reymund, shaking a little in frustration, looked to Tom and replied, “I think so, but every time I try to cast it, I keep getting the pronunciation wrong and the starling just cries louder. I… I don’t want to keep hurting it.”

Tom lazily braced his hands against the table behind him and said, “Well, let’s work on that first. Then we can work on finishing the transformation and get this thing to stop crying like a dying rat. Now, repeat after me: Reparifarge.”

Reymund closed his eyes for a moment and said, “Re… Repareefaarj”

Tom shook his head and corrected, “No, no, focus on my lips Reymund. Slowly now, Ruh-par-i-farge. Re like in rug. Par like the muggle game of golf, this is the part you want to really enunciate. ‘I’ like in ‘it’. Farge, hard on the ‘j’ sound. Close your eyes; try again. Rerparifarge.”

Closing his eyes and saying it slowly to get it right, Reymund repeated, “Reparifarge.” 

Tom clapped him on the back and said, “Good, good. Now, let’s try it on the poor clock, chap.”

Both he and Reymund turned their attention to the clock, which softly cried again before the latter pointed his wand and with a curving flick, said, “Reparifarge.” Now the clock morphed into something closer to a bird but when it opened its mouth, instead of a call, it began to loudly tick and tock. 

Tom scratched his head and sighed before he sternly said to the Gryffindor boy, “No. Nope, now we’ve got a tick-tocking bird. Come on, we learned this a month ago. You can’t be this far behind. Come on, again.”

Reymund bowed his head in shame and mumbled something unheard just as Professor Dumbledore walked over to them and said with a light smile, “I see your practiced hand and intellect are not enough, Riddle. Perhaps a lighter touch would help the lad.”

Tom looked right into Dumbledore’s eyes, frustration flooding his face as he snapped, “Or maybe he should listen in class. We covered this spell for a full week. It’s not my fault he’s only one rung above a Squib.”

Dumbledore’s smile faded immediately as he said, “30 points, Riddle. Now, lighter touch or it will be a detention too.” Frustrated, Tom shot his eyes at Piper, who was hiding their face while laughing at something Tarquin was saying. When they looked up, they shrugged and nodded in agreement with a glance to Dumbledore.

With a note of defeat and not wanting to lose Slytherin any more points, Tom took a deep breath and sat down next to Reymund as Albus gave a slightly rougher than normal squeeze to Tom’s shoulder and walked back to his desk at the front of the class. Tom sighed, gathered himself to think positive thoughts, and with the fakest smile he could muster, looked to Reymund and consoled, “Hey, Reymund. It’s alright. Look, I struggled with counter curses for a long time too. What I can tell you is that, much like other spells, what matters most is your thoughts. You have to calm and concentrate your will on the intent of the spell. That bird will stay a hybrid until you can resolve yourself on whether you want it to be a bird or a clock. Would you like me to show you how, and then we’ll try it together?”

As Reymund met Tom’s eyes for the first time, Tom recognized their look: it was the same look that he had when he couldn’t get Billy Stubbs to unpetrify back at Wool’s. It didn’t tug at his heart, but Tom knew what that was like so he gave Reymund a forced, reassuring smile before turning his attention to the half-bird, half-clock and with his wand raised, he cast, “Reparifarge.”

The bird gave a soft cry of relief and flew around the room a couple times before briefly landing on Tom’s shoulder and returning to its perch in the table. Reymund clapped a little before a look of determination took over his face. He puffed up his hair a little more with his hands and recited the incantation with Tom a couple more times. Tom gave him a curt nod and the boy looked down at the bird. 

Tom, replicating how he felt when Albus placed a confident hand on his own shoulder, did the same to Reymund and assured him, “You’ve got this. Remember, it’s all about intent… You want it to be a clock. Make it so.”

Keeping his hand on the boy’s shoulder, Tom watched with newfound pride as Reymund tapped his wand three times above the starling and cast with a commanding voice, “Vera Verto.” The starling gave a soft call before quickly collapsing into itself and morphing into a sturdy mantel clock with a round, tan face and black hands pointing to the correct time of 4:56pm. A few groups around them, who had been watching after Dumbledore reprimanded Tom, clapped as Remymund looked back with excitement to Tom who returned with a small, genuine smile. 

Tom squeezed his shoulder and pointed to the clock and said, “Now, back again to a starling. Let’s hear its beautiful call, Reymund.”

Reymund steeled himself once more and with a curved flourish of his wand, he cast, “Reparifarge,” and the clock expanded back out into a beautiful, iridescently red and gold breasted starling. It opened its mouth and let forth a beautiful three note song before flying in a loop and landing on Professor Dumbledore’s outstretched forefinger.

Albus smiled at Tom as he addressed the class, “I believe a round of applause is in order. 20 points to Mr. Riddle, for the gentle, guiding hand. And 30 points to Mr. Hugh Reymund, for the excellent concentration to change its colors to that of Gryffindor House. Excellent work. I believe that is where we shall leave class. To dinner. Off you pop.”

After a short applause, which Tarquin and Piper led and Lestrange’s gang scoffed in the back, everyone started packing up their things and leaving the classroom with talk of what they would be looking forward to over the break. Unseen by Tom, who was trying to break away from a thankful Hugh, Piper smiled and passed a note to Tarquin before catching up with Tom as he was about to leave. Right when Tom was about to ask Piper what they were doing over the break, Albus came up to both of them and interrupted, “Ah, Mr. Riddle, if you would please follow me. I believe I have something interesting to show you. You should come as well, Mx. Nobel.”

Tom and Piper exchanged looks of confusion but complied as Professor Dumbledore led them out of the classroom and towards the Entrance Hall. As they made their way down a short spiral staircase next to the Great Hall, Albus broke their silence and cheerily said, “I am pleased to see you have found how much Hogwarts has to offer, Tom  
.”  
Tom looked up at Albus and replied, “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Professor.”  
Albus chuckled and said, “Ah, yes you do. The room on the 7th floor, my boy. I must say, I underestimated your curiosity, as well as Mx. Nobel’s want for solitude. Only deep desires conjure the door to the Room of Requirement.”

Tom hesitantly laughed and said, “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been using it quite a bit to practice spellwork and study. Our common room has been crowded as of late.”  
As they approached a gigantic portrait of a fruit bowl Tom hadn’t seen before, Albus chuckled again and said, “It also serves as an excellent getaway, free of cyclical plots between yourself and young Mr. Lestrange. In the same house, yet you quarrel. A shame. I daresay spellwork and studies are not the only experimentation you have conducted, my young pupils. Ah, Ventri Plenus.”

As soon as he said the words, the portrait swung open and Albus led them into a sprawling kitchen filled with small, wrinkly creatures Tom had only known in books to be House Elves. The elves scurried around as they seemed to be preparing a meal for hundreds, magically levitating dozens of platters, cups, plates, and various foods around as they went. Sitting alone at a table lit by candlelight in the back right corner of the room was Headmaster Armando Dippet. He was eating from a series of plates that had a huge, oddly green-oozing steak, a bowl of the largest blueberries Tom had ever seen, and a tall glass of a murky red liquid. After taking a bite from his steak, Dippet looked up at Albus, Tom, and Piper standing in the entrance and beckoned them over as he said with a struggled swallow of his food, “Ah, yes. Riddle and Nobel. Come. Join me.”

Tom and Piper followed Professor Dumbledore to the table and Dippet conjured another 3 chairs and told a passing elf to bring him a plate of mince pies. The elf nodded and went back to work as they all took their seats and the Headmaster greeted them, “Good to finally meet you both, Tom and Piper. Both of you have had my eye since the first week and you have not ceased to amaze. Your impressions of me while trying to get out of homework in Slughorn’s class was quite the treat to hear about, Piper. And Tom, your Charms and Transfiguration work are some of the best this school has seen since Professor Whitlocke herself came here.”

Tom nodded and said, “Gervaise Ollivander said the same when I first got my wand. Forgive me for interrupting, Professor, but why have you summoned us?”

Dippet took a long sip from his crystal goblet before answering, “Well, it has come to my attention that you have been giving the elves quite the thorough test of their abilities. Why, Roedie here… Where’d that girl go… ROEDIE!”

Popping into existence right next to him, an elf with beady green eyes smiled wide and asked, “Yes, Headmaster?”

Dippet patted her a little too rough on the shoulder and ordered, “Yes… Yes… Tell these two what you told me, Rodie.”

Rodie the House-elf bowed and said, “Yes… We apologize, for we did not mean to get Mr. Riddle and… Piper Nobel in trouble, but we felt it important to tell the headmaster of our staff’s troubles. During the Halloween feast, when we were preparing desserts, we were receiving orders not only from the Great Hall, but also from two students on the 7th floor corridor. Their list was not long but the precision and design of the foods described took great effort to create and send. This was but a continuation of the foods sent up to this room, which we ourselves did not know could be used for such a function since our magic has normally been restricted to the Great Hall and the residence of the Headmaster.”

Dippet laughed, “Albus, did you ever suspect the Room of Requirement could do such things? In all my time as headmaster of this school, it never occurred to me to use that room for such a function. I thought we only used it to store old furniture and books.”

Albus chuckled as well and replied, “Nor I, Armando. I have only found the room once and it had pleasantly turned itself into a much desired water-closet.”

Both Albus and Dippet turned their attention to Piper and Tom, who had been silently chewing on a selection of mince pies that a different elf had set on the table while they were talking. Dippet said, mouth full of steak, “Mmmokay, Ah… While I am glad you two have found secrets of your own within the castle, I would ask that you not place undue burden on the elves here, especially when they are preparing food for the rest of the students and staff. Having to design and cook a skull made of candied-bone, while creative, is too much. Now, run along. I’m sure your house is waiting for you to eat dinner. If I don’t see you before break, have a pleasant holiday.” Albus got up and after grabbing a mince pie for himself, led them out of the kitchens and into the Great Hall where the last meal before break was being prepared.

After seeing Albus join the professor’s table, Piper pulled Tom aside and, with a shit-eating grin, said, “As much as I want to obey Dippet, I’m kinda full… Wanna break some rules to see something you’ll never see again?” Tom returned with his own smile and nodded as he followed Piper out of the Great Hall, out of the main door, and down a long stretch of field until they were on their way towards the Forbidden Forest. As they made their way, Piper asked from ahead of him, “Do you know what today is, Tom?”

Unsure of the actual answer, Tom responded, “Well, it’s the solstice. What else is it?”

Piper turned around and began to skip backwards as they corrected him, “It’s the first day of Yule. If I overheard right, the centaurs of the forest gather near the center, or what they call its ‘Heart’, and they perform this ritual to thank the stars for blessing them for the year and to ensure they have another good one. Supposed to be wicked. That’s where we’re going.”   
As they reached the edge of the forest, careful to make sure Professor Picard wasn’t prowling the grounds, Tom began to feel uneasy. The darkness the forest seemed to cultivate and radiate was something he assumed to be magical in nature, yet he saw Piper, unfazed, disappear into the tree-line ahead of him. As they both continued inward, Piper led him along a winding path that Tom couldn’t see but followed anyway for another half-hour before they put up a hand and stopped to hide behind a wide tree. When Tom joined them, they said, “Okay, so, now we really need to be careful. Centaurs don’t like humans much, and they are right to do so. Long history and violence between centaurs and wizards over perceived ownership of land and what have you. Anyway, keep low and try not to break a branch or something and we’ll be just fine.”

Creeping low with Piper, Tom began to see a series of torches being held by at least 50 centaurs as they all stood in a large clearing around something in the center he couldn’t yet see. Piper beckoned him as they found a more elevated position and Tom saw in the center, on an altar of bones and wood, was a log the size of an entire tree. Torches sticking out of the top with huge pinecones and fern leaves adorned the altar. One of the centaurs, a tall female with a long mane of red hair that flowed like water down her bare back in intricate braids, stepped forward with their torch raised and looked to the sky as she began to chant in a language Tom couldn’t hope to understand. One by one, each of the centaurs did the same, harmonizing as they joined. It was one of the most beautiful things Tom had ever beheld, giving him instant and long-lasting goose pimples. 

Continuing her song, the lead centaur looked to the gargantuan log in front of her and stepped forward to light it ablaze. Each of her fellows followed suit until it was a full bonfire and they all knelt and became silent as the wood crackled and smoke filled the air. They all looked to the sky, joined hands, and took in the smoke like it was their first breath of fresh air. As the smoke spread, the smell of it reached Tom and Piper and Tom was hit by a sense of calm and warmth he had never felt before. Every worry, every fear, even that of the visions he had evaded for months, released from his body and all he felt, all he needed to feel, was the warmth of the fire. Piper grabbed his hand and after meeting each other’s gaze, they both turned their eyes to the stars. Despite the dense canopy of the forest, it was as if the trees themselves were parting to show, to welcome, Tom and Piper to wonder in their glory. Taking deep, soothing breaths, they both watched as a meteor shower cascaded across the sky and the centaurs, in a loud roar, celebrated in what Tom could only assume was the best sign of fortune. 

Tom and Piper sat there for a long time, how long they didn’t know. They watched in jealous silence as the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest sat around the fire and shared their bountiful food and drink amongst each other. It was a marvel Tom did not expect to enjoy as much as he did, especially since he knew he would never experience it himself. Nonetheless, when Piper wordlessly beckoned for them to leave, Tom was reluctant to forego the warmth of the hearth the centaurs created but knew that to stay any longer might end their celebration and incur their wrath. So, Tom followed Piper out of the forest and it wasn’t until they were walking back across the grounds that Piper broke their silence and muttered just loud enough for Tom to hear, “I hope I find a family like that one day.” Tom looked at Piper’s back, wondering if they too were mournful to leave the fire’s embrace, and nodded. He knew that Piper thought he felt the same and they shared their calm silence once more until they bid each other a good night inside the damp Slytherin common room.


	8. Heart and Hearth

Unlike most of the students of Hogwarts, and to his dismay, Piper, Tom stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holiday. The sense of calm Tom felt from the magical fire he witnessed in the Forbidden Forest with Piper and the centaurs lasted for a few days before tapering off completely on Christmas morning. When he woke up that morning, he was pleasantly surprised to find two things on top of his trunk he had never had before: presents. During all 10 years he had lived at Wool’s Orphanage, not once had he ever received a gift from someone. Not for Christmas, and not for his birthday. Granted he didn’t pay any mind to this lack of gifts, despite watching in jealousy as everyone else got some on their days. Tom always assumed it was a side-effect of his demeanor, which even as a child he saw as a necessary protection, but it didn’t detract from this moment when he saw gifts from the only two people he would ever want to receive gifts from in the first place. 

One had a note written in Albus’s curvy lettering and the other unmistakable as Piper’s barely legible scrawl. After having breakfast down in the great hall with the 9 other remaining students, Tom opened Piper’s to find a moving photo of them changing shape back and forth from Albus Dumbledore to a ghoul, which made Tom spit take his morning pumpkin juice onto the black leather couch in the common room. After a quick and effective Scouring Spell, Tom read the note attached to the present:

Dear Tom,  
Don’t hate me. I swear if I come back and you’ve disowned me, or worse found another shockingly witty metamorphmagus to hang out with, I’m gonna use the Slug-Vomit Spell on your asshole and tie you up in our hideout.

Threats out of the way, I have been forced by my parents to help the boy in our village with his late-blooming magic. His parents find his grades in theoretical interpretations of magic and potions to be just fine but his scores on practical magic have been between Poor and Troll since the beginning of the year. So, they tasked the third best wizard in our year, me behind you and that ravenclaw with the freaky eyes, to help him. Turns out, the kid has a Thestral-hair wand that acts up at the slightest interference when he’s casting a spell. He couldn’t even cast a simple Disarming Charm with the damned thing backfiring so hard it gave his dog a heart attack. Anyway, we’ve been working since break started a few days ago to calm both him and the wand down. Slow progress but he’s getting there. He bribed me with good food and his dog stole my heart the second we met eyes. Anyway… How is the winter holiday treating you? I still can’t get that song out of my head. The one the centaurs sang on Yule. I couldn’t understand a word of it but, for some reason, it felt like my heart and soul could.   
Oh, and I should mention… The boy I have been tutoring is Tarquin. Ok bye. Don’t hate me.  
Cheers,  
Piper Nobel

It wasn’t anger Tom felt as he re-read Piper’s letter to confirm his worst suspicions of his best, and only, friend. It wasn’t even a fear that someone else might take them away and he’d be alone again. He was used to being alone. He thrived alone. It was an underlying, gnawing feeling that Piper was being tricked by that stupid, two timing, arrogant, hair-swirling, idiot Tar-Coward Alex-Pander D’auFeckless the Farce. The boy’s gang of Gryffindors already showed Tom their true colors when they tried to have him curse that Hufflepuff girl, simply because they were too weak themselves. A Thestral hair wand holding his magic back? How pathetic. Green light or not, Tom would curse that pompous prick the second he saw him again. He could at least respect the effort and skill the Woode twins and Lestrange used to get back at him for the overpowered Hair-Loss Spell. But Tarquin? How Piper could possibly find pleasure in this poignantly pitiful person was plainly preposterous. 

Tom’s anger did not abate as he angrily tore open the wrapping of Piper’s present to find they had given him a rather old, faded sky-blue and gold bound, book titled Jinxes for the Jinxed by Alberta Toothill with a note attached to it that said in Piper’s handwriting: 

My mother found this copy while she was cleaning out our family’s library. I have one of my own and I expect a duel upon our first meeting back in the Hideout. Study well, I’m coming for your title, Riddle.

This brightened his mood a little as he opened Albus’s gift, a fresh stock of candy and sweets from Sugarplums along with a small note that asked him to come to his office after dinner. Tom’s anger switched to mild confusion as he pondered the meaning of the note. Aside from his confrontation over his use of the house-elf's magic on Halloween, Albus had not singled out or attempted a dialogue with Tom since he’d gotten to Hogwarts. Tom had assumed this would happen, given that he now had to watch over hundreds of students and Tom was simply one of them. So, Tom spent much of the morning, skipping lunch in the Great Hall, in the common room reading Toothill’s book and taking notes on certain jinxes. He was particularly fond of the vulgar description and illustrations provided for the multi-stage Tentacle Head Jinx.

At just past one in the afternoon, Tom walked up the stairs from the dungeon and across the first-floor corridor to find Dumbledore reading while leaning back in a floating armchair whilst a string quartet played him a gentle melody Tom didn’t recognize. Not looking up from his book, Albus said over the softening instruments, “Ah, Tom. Good, you got my note. Do you know of Gerald Finzi?”

Tom moved into the classroom and leaned lazily on the side of a desk as he admired the intricate spellwork Dumbledore must be using and answered, “No, sir. Is he the composer of this song?”

Dumbledore’s chair slowly lowered with him in it until all four legs were on the ground and he set his book on the desk at the head of the classroom and replied, “Yes. Vastly under-appreciated, I’m afraid. I fear he will remain that way as well, for despite his great talent, his name has yet to be spoken in the same breath as the likes of Chopin, Debussy, or Bach. Yet you, my dear boy, do not suffer from a similar fate. The way I hear it, you are making quite the impression. You have even overcome your own shortfall regarding counter-spells and reversing spells. A feat most your age would not have been able to accomplish alone. I take it you and Piper have used The Room of Requirement as more than just a place to have your own feasts to rival that of the Great Hall in both size and creativity?”

Tom smiled as he moved closer and said, “I have made it a point to be the best in every class. How can I expect to perform the magic of my first wand experience, that beautiful healing flame, if I do not take the chances to push the boundaries of my own magical knowledge?”

Albus chuckled, “Ah, I have missed speaking to you, Tom. Not one of your fellow classmates, I daresay not even the older ones, speak with such clarity and purpose. How far ahead are you?”

Tom continued closer and looking at one of the violins still softly playing the tune, he focused his mind and pointed his wand as he cast, “Colovaria.” The violin changed color from a glossy brown to a luminescent magenta. Tom smirked as he continued forward, flicking his wand every few steps to change the color again and again, and haughtily said, “Not too far, Albus. Don’t worry, I still learn a bit from you and the other professors.”

Albus chuckled again and softly clapped before saying, “I see your confidence has risen with your status. That said, Tom, arrogance does not become you. Take it from an old man whose arrogance defines his past.”

Tom stopped just short of Albus’s desk and flicked his wand once more to turn the violin back to its original glossy brown and inquired pointedly, “Why now, Albus? What did you call me here for?”

Albus’s smile vanished as he replied, “I want to know what happened on the train.”

Tom almost took a step back. How could the old man possibly know? Did one of Lestrange’s gang say something? Did… Albus interrupted Tom’s thoughts and answered, “A young Ravenclaw girl felt it was right to tell me after she saw you and I speaking at breakfast the first day of the term. I think she was right. Now, please, tell me what happened. I only wish to help, as did she when she healed your arm.”

This time Tom did take a step back, many steps back, before he turned around and began walking out of the classroom before he noticed the sweat pooling in his hands. Before he remembered what Piper said the first day they met. His fury returned as he asked without turning to face him, “Did you hex me when we met? Back at Wool’s?”

Albus, who was staring intently at Tom as he walked away, narrowed his eyes for a bare moment before asking, “What gives you that thought, Tom? No, I did not.”

His right hand clenched on his wand, Tom turned around and, unsuccessfully hiding his anger, asked again, “Did you hex me or not, Albus?”

Albus rose from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk as he answered with seemingly genuine concern, “No, Tom. What is bothering you? What has happened? Did something happen after I left you that first day at Wool’s? Why didn’t you mention this when I took you to Diagon Alley?”

Tom raised his wand at Dumbledore and demanded, “What did you do to me, Albus? Why do I keep seeing that green light! TELL ME!”

Albus slowly made his way down the aisle towards Tom, his piercing blue eyes locked on the boy’s, who tried very hard not to meet his gaze. His hands still at his side, he responded in a calm voice, “Tom, we both know we won’t like what will happen if you try to curse me. Now, please tell me what you’re talking about. What green light are you seeing?”

Tom couldn’t control his shaking now. Couldn’t control the tears coming down his face as he couldn’t get the memory of killing that couple and their baby out of his mind’s eye. It had been so long, months, since he had seen it happen. Months since he had last seen the flash. Why was it propping up now? Why did it have to make him feel… this… whatever this is. What was this? Tom dropped his wand onto the desk to his right as he angrily shook and screamed in place. Albus continued forward until he was right in front of Tom and placed the same hand, the same hand of reassurance Tom didn’t know he needed on his shoulder as Albus asked him again, “What’s happened Tom?”

Now the flashes came. Again and again Tom relived the moment he killed them. Relived the agony he felt when he tried to kill the boy and the green light enveloped the room. Tom shook but every time his instinct to push away or wandlessly curse Albus into oblivion, his strength failed him. Albus didn’t move to embrace him, he simply sat on top of the desk and kept his hand on Tom’s shoulder and waited. For a few minutes, Tom filled the room with his wails and sobs. Just standing with his head down and hearing his own lament echo back at him from the walls of the room. 

When his heart finally calmed and his body stopped shaking, Tom looked up and with as much strength he could muster and said as he gazed into Albus’s eyes and began, “On the train, I had a dream… a vision… I know not… I saw whoever's body I was in kill a young wizard couple and their baby in their home. They… I… I don’t know… The green light was from the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra. But that wasn’t the first time I saw it, the light I mean. The first few nights after I met you at Wool’s, I had nightmares that always ended with a flash of green light. They didn’t stop until I gave Stubby and the others their stuff back, so I thought it was done. But then, after I met Lestrange’s gang and fell asleep on the train, I had the full thing. And then, when I tried to…”

Albus patiently waited for Tom to continue but when he didn’t, Albus finished his sentence, “When you tried to hex Ms. Keswick…”

Tom shook his head in confusion for a second, and then nodded as he continued, “Yes… When… When I tried to hex the Ravenclaw girl, Keswick, I saw the short vision of the green light again. It was the first time it had happened while I was awake and it startled me so much I ran. I heard Tarquin yelling something after me but I just kept going. That’s how Piper and I met, in the Room of Requirement. When we tested it out and when I tried to hex them too and saw the same green light, we assumed the commonality was something stopping me from harming others. It even happened again when I jinxed that git…”

Albus sternly corrected him, “Student, Tom. When you jinxed young Mr. Lestrange.”

Tom tensed a little, not expecting Albus to defend Rodulph, but resumed anyway, “When I jinxed him, my anger towards him made seeing the light less impactful and my will to punish him pushed through to the point that the spell was too powerful and made him bald.”

Albus sat back on the desk, arms crossed in contemplation, before returning his eyes to Tom and said, “Interesting. First, I will say this only once more. I swear to you, I did not place a single spell on you the day we met. I did place a Tracking Charm on your fellow orphan’s belongings that you stole to ensure you complied with my terms. The moment you placed each of them back, the enchantment ended. Now, as for this vision you are having. What can you remember about the couple? Was there anything unnatural or out of the ordinary you can remember?”

Tom sat on the desk and racked his brain, painfully trying to remember the contents of the dream. Tom had never been outside London, so he didn’t know if houses outside the city looked different from those in it, though it certainly did look different from those he had known. There was something odd, and as he remembered it, he told Albus, “The lights in the house… and something odd in their living room. Their television— It’s a Muggle invention that moves pictures like magical photography— theirs had something I have never seen on a tv before. It had color and the picture wasn’t grainy like ours. And their clothes were different too. I’ve never seen people dressed like them before. Not even wizards.”

Albus was now stroking his beard as he listened close, his eyes never leaving Tom. After a moment or so of silence between them, Albus returned his hand to Tom’s shoulder as he stood and said, “Tom, I will need to think on this. I have known many to claim to see the future and fewer still who actually can. And none of them remember a single detail of their experience. Their prophetic moments come at the cost of their own memory and the details as such are only recorded so long as an observer chooses to do so. I wish I had an answer for you, my boy, but alas you have done what many foolishly deem impossible and have stumped me. Here…”

Albus conjured a plate of biscuits and dark chocolate on the desk on the desk beside Tom and concluded, “Have some of these. The chocolate will help. I must return to my study to think and read. Have as much as you like. Should you see this vision, in either long or short form, please notify me immediately. This… This is interesting.”

As Tom watched Albus slowly ascend the stairs at the back of the classroom to his office, he wondered what Albus could possibly be thinking. He had known about him trying to hex that girl at Tarquin’s behest. He was a little disappointed the girl with the piercing eyes he met on the boats told Dumbledore about his arm but that feeling faded as he took his first bite of a dark-chocolate bar from the platter. Taking a few minutes to eat more of the bar and a couple biscuits, Tom got up and left the classroom with more questions than he came in with but an odd sense of relief after having released every pent up emotion he didn’t know he had in the first place. He hadn’t cried that much in his life and if Mrs. Cole was truthful, he didn’t even cry when his mum died in childbirth. 

Tom wondered where it all came from as he continued his slow walk back down to the Slytherin common room and down again to his empty dorm, having been the only Slytherin first-year to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday break. Almost as soon as he crawled into bed, Tom fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, and the following week before the start of term, Tom spent most of his time lounging in the common room or otherwise testing his knowledge of the Grand Staircase’s patterns. Only once did he miscalculate how the case that revolved between the 2nd and 7th floor dropped in elevation as if to fool someone into believing it would attach to the 5th floor but instead attached to the 4th. He also found that he could not place a further charm on any of the separate staircases to change their color. Which disappointed him because color-coding them would solve nearly every problem they posed as it would be easy to simply step onto the corresponding cases in order by color to reach your destination. But alas, Tom mastered his boredom and eventually did 3 full circuits of the Grand Staircase and collapsed from exhaustion in his bed the night before students would return from their holiday. 

When Tom woke the next day, he used the excitement of Piper returning to fuel him through his morning as he planned a surprise for them when they got back to their hideout. What he did not anticipate, however, was Piper to beat him to the 7th floor that morning. And to not be alone. While Piper was leaning against the wall with their school bag laying against it, Tarquin D’auferio the 4th was walking away with a wide smile on his face and waving them goodbye. Tom passed right by them both and after making sure the pretty-boy was out of sight, stormed into the Room of Requirement. As Piper skipped inside and dropped their things on a Slytherin cushion, they gleefully prodded Tom, “I sense I hath strucketh a nerve-eth. He was just thanking me for helping him control his wand. Which I assure you isn’t innuendo.”

Tom didn’t listen. As he took off his robes and rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt and loosened his Slytherin tie, he said gruffly, “Take out your wand.”

Piper scoffed and rolled their eyes as they too took off their robes, acknowledging the challenge. With a twitch of their head, they morphed their hair into a loose bun and took out their wand as they retorted, “That’s how this is gonna go, Tom? You should know better than to think you own me. But if you need to be put in your place, I’ll gladly do it.”

Tom’s anger towards Tarquin, at his nightmares, and now Piper boiled over as he bellowed with his wand pointed at Piper’s head, “Mutatio Skullus!” Piper just barely ducked out of the way and their smirk vanished as they walked forward with their wand at their side. Tom continued to hurl hexes and curses at them, Piper always seeming to but just one step out of the way until they were just a few feet away and pointed their wand directly at Tom.

As Tom pointed his wand so close to Piper’s face that it touched the top of their nose as they both breathed heavily, Piper sighed and without lowering their wand and said, “You done? Because if you’re not, I’m gonna end this here and seal this room off to you for good. Then you can fend for yourself against Tarquin, against Lestrange, and every other student who wants your head on a pike.” Tom didn’t lower his wand as he felt his adrenaline hit its peak. His vision was starting to cloud over as his fury consumed him. How could Piper betray him like this? Choosing Tarquin, of all people? He had to know.

Keeping his wand leveled, Tom asked just loud enough for Piper to hear, “Why him, Pipe? Why that twit of all people?”

Piper lowered their wand and batted Tom’s out of the way as they lurched forward and forced Tom into their first hug. As they held him there, they whispered in his ear, “Because that twit needed to be reminded that so long as you and I are friends, he cannot touch you. Because even though he may be an idiot and his pranks often go too far, he isn’t that bad.” Piper squeezed him before releasing him and sitting on the floor before continuing, “He reminds me a lot of you. He’s not as conflicted as you but he has his own demons to tend with. Not to mention the pressure from both within his family and without.”

Tom started to calm down as he slumped to sit on the floor with Piper and asked, “What do you mean? What pressure could a model of perfection like him have?”

Piper smirked and replied as they leaned back and relaxed on their palms, “Do you remember what the Sorting Hat said when it touched his head?” Tom didn’t really listen to what it said, simply focused on how annoying he thought the boy was as he slipped-fives with everyone like he was a movie star, so he shrugged. Piper continued, “Ex Merlini Gravis. By Merlin’s grave. I assumed you know who Merlin is.”

Tom nodded and said, “Albus and I stopped by the door to his vault in Gringotts before going to my own. Why does he matter?”

Piper chuckled and said, “Okay, I’m just gonna gloss over the fact that Professor Dumbledore took you to the most secure vault in the world and say that Tarquin’s father, before he died a Squib, was the last remaining member of a long hidden line supposedly connected to Merlin himself. Being the heir of Merlin is part of some prophecy told ages ago about the fall of the wizarding world and the rise of said heir to restore us to power. Of course, no one has ever actually heard the prophecy, but that doesn’t change how the myth was spread and changed across time. When my mother told me the story, even before the D’auferio’s moved into Godric’s Hollow, it was Merlin himself who told the prophecy of a war where magic and muggle alike would fight a common enemy and the heir would either be their grace or doom.” 

Tom laughed out loud and said, “So, you’re telling me that wizards are so sure of the rise of a ‘chosen one’ that they are willing him to treat him like magical royalty? They’ve lost their marbles!”

Piper laughed too and said, “I don’t believe it, personally, but I’ve seen first-hand how much pressure he is under. His mom is a good woman, but growing up she groomed him to be this façade of perfection and it weighs heavy on him. He’s not like you, who can live up to the image you portray. He isn’t a great wizard and the only thing he is even remotely good at is potion-making. And contrary to what most people think, he isn’t wealthy. His dad was a Squib and his mom is a Muggle, so there wasn’t much money there in the first place. I’m not saying it warrants him being a git to everyone as payback, but I get the want to rebel against the people who want to control you.”

Tom nodded and thought a bit before saying as he got up to gather his things, “I get it. Alright? I get it. Maybe I’ll ease up on him. Just don’t bring him in here, or I won’t hold back.”  
Piper laughed mockingly and replied, “Okay, wunderkind. I didn’t even cast a spell and I beat you. And you can still give him a rough go of it, just don’t overdo it. He’s not the one you should cast your snake-vomit curse on. I don’t even think Lestrange deserves it. Bugger that! Which reminds me, Sluggy is having a meeting for our house and we’re probably already late for that. Let’s go.”

Following their lead, Tom left the Room of Requirement with Piper and they effortlessly descended the Grand Staircase arm in arm and wound their way down to the Slytherin Common Room where Professor Slughorn was already deep into one of his infamous monologues about his many famous friends and associates.

“...and I told him, next time, don’t sneak a bottle of firewhiskey onto the pitch!” Most of the Slytherins in the room laughed heartily, albeit fakely as Tom and Piper took their seats on the periphery. Slughorn noticed them as they came in and beckoned them both to sit with him on the couch. He clapped Tom on the shoulder and gave a narrow eyed, curt nod to Piper, who, much to the genuine delight of the students in the room, had since turned just their head into his but with obscenely cocked eyes and a forked tongue. Slughorn continued, “Ah yes, glad you could join us! I was just telling Alphard here about my adventures with the Irish National Team back before the War. Their keeper that year, Rian O’Keane, a dear, dear friend he was, was notoriously sloshed the day of the Quidditch World Cup and they still won by 70 points! Tragic that he died, of spattergroit no less. Anyway, I’ve kept you all long enough. Welcome back from break everyone; get your last days' rest while you can. You’ll need it. Especially for my class, we will be going over potion detection via smell. A harrowing endeavor even for the mighty.”

As everyone else left the common room to enjoy their last few hours before curfew, Slughorn piped up as Tom and Piper walked over to a table, “Tom and Piper, may I join you?”  
Looking at each other with momentary confusion, Piper having changed back to ‘normal’, they both nodded and the professor got up with an audible ‘oof’ and sat with them at a table by the fireplace. Slughorn summoned them all a glass of pumpkin juice and after taking a hefty sip of his own, Slughorn wiped his mouth and said, “Tom, and you too Piper, are both outstanding students. Truly. I would like you to join a little club I am starting this year. The young Black brothers, the dashing Woode twins and Mr Lestrange, two fascinating ravenclaw girls, and young master D’auferio have already agreed to go to my first party, a sort of celebration of the new year. What do you say?”  
Piper’s eyes don’t leave Slughorn’ as they asked, emotionless, “What’s my role?”

Slughorn chortles and scratches his stomach for a second before responding, “Oh my dear Nobel, I am not one to make the same mistake twice. You are there as a guest and I will not ask you to be my circus elephant. Simply as my guest.”

Piper shrugged and joked, “If there’s food and the opportunity to make both Lestrange and Tarq’ look like fools, I’m in.”

Tom nodded and questioned, “Will it just be us students or will other professors be there as well?” Tom wondered if Albus would approve or at least come if Tom asked. They hadn’t seen each other much after what happened after Christmas and Tom wasn’t sure if he had been forgiven for threatening the professor. 

Slughorn took another hearty gulp of juice and replied, “Ah, yes. A few friends from the ministry are coming. A few former students of mine. Another member of the Irish National Squad should be there as well. I thought it would be a good idea for young to see what accomplished, well connected wizards are like and make some early connections for themselves as well. You can be as great a wizard as you like, but without a friend in a high place, what is the point?” Slughorn laughed again before asking, “So, will I see you there, this Saturday at 8?”

Tom and Piper both gave a mutual look of ‘why not’ and nodded as Slughorn clapped his hands together and drained the last of his juice, which Tom suspected may have had a little alcohol in it as the professor stumbled a little as he exited the common room. Tom laughed when, the moment the door to the common room closed, Piper immediately transformed into a slightly larger copy of Slughorn and purposely failed at chugging the rest of their barely touched pumpkin juice and covering their face, and their too-tight robes, in the sickly-orange juice. When Tom readied his wand to scour it away, Piper further mocked their professor and said in a heavily drunk portrayal, “NO! No… I’ve.. I’ve goddit, mmmmokay Mizzer Riddle? Just gotta…”  
Piper fake stumbled around and waved their wand at various things before finally steadying it on their own face and said, “Scurge-mer-ferr… Nope, goddit. Yup. Sour-giphy. Ok, one more time. Scourgey Murphy.” Piper fell backward onto a table and feigned blacking out and Tom and Piper both erupted into a fit of laughter that lasted long after Piper caught their breath to seriously cast the Scouring Charm. Tom was glad Piper was back, but even his elation for their shenanigans didn’t stop him from wondering what their future will bring. Or how Tarquin would fit if he and Piper became friends, or more, instead of just neighbors at home.


	9. Cynosure

Unlike most of the students of Hogwarts, and to his dismay, Piper, Tom stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holiday. The sense of calm Tom felt from the magical fire he witnessed in the Forbidden Forest with Piper and the centaurs lasted for a couple days before tapering off completely on Christmas morning. When he woke up that morning, he was pleasantly surprised to find two things on top of his trunk he had never had before: presents. During all 10 years he had lived at Wool's Orphanage, not once had he ever received a gift from someone. Not for Christmas, and not for his birthday. Granted he didn't pay any mind to this lack of gifts, despite watching in jealousy as everyone else got some on their days. Tom always assumed it was a side-effect of his demeanor, which even as a child he saw as a necessary protection, but it didn't detract from this moment when he saw gifts from the only two people he would ever want to receive gifts from in the first place.

One had a note written in Albus's curvy lettering and the other unmistakable as Piper's barely legible scrawl. After having breakfast down in the great hall with the 9 other remaining students, Tom opened Piper's to find a moving photo of them changing shape back and forth from Albus Dumbledore to a ghoul, which made Tom spit take his morning pumpkin juice onto the black leather couch in the common room. After a quick and effective Scouring Spell, Tom read the note attached to the present:

Dear Tom,

Don't hate me. I swear if I come back and you've disowned me, or worse found another shockingly witty metamorphmagus to hang out with, I'm gonna use the Slug-Vomit Spell on your asshole and tie you up in our hideout.

Threats out of the way, I have been forced by my parents to help the boy in our village with his late-blooming magic. His parents find his grades in theoretical interpretations of magic and potions to be just fine but his scores on practical uses of magic have been between Poor and Troll since the beginning of the year. So, they tasked the third best wizard in our year, me behind you and that ravenclaw with the freaky eyes, to help him. Turns out, the kid has a Thestral-hair wand that acts up at the slightest interference when he's casting a spell. He couldn't even cast a simple Disarming Charm with the damned thing backfiring so hard it gave his dog a heart attack. Anyway, we've been working since break started a few days ago to calm both him and the wand down. Slow progress but he's getting there. He bribed me with good food and his dog stole my heart the second we met eyes. Anyway… How is the winter holiday treating you? I still can't get that song out of my head. The one the centaurs sang on Yule. I couldn't understand a word of it but, for some reason, it felt like my heart and soul could.

Oh, and I should mention… The boy I have been tutoring is Tarquin. Ok bye. Don't hate me.

Cheers,

Piper Nobel

It wasn't anger Tom felt as he re-read Piper's letter to confirm his worst suspicions of his best, and only, friend. It wasn't even a fear that someone else might take them away and he'd be alone again. He was used to being alone. He thrived alone. It was an underlying, gnawing feeling that Piper was being tricked by that stupid, two timing, arrogant, hair-swirling, idiot Tar-Coward Alex-Pander D'auFeckless the Farce. The boy's gang of Gryffindors already showed Tom their true colors when they tried to have him curse that Hufflepuff girl, simply because they were too weak themselves. A Thestral hair wand holding his magic back? How pathetic. Green light or not, Tom would curse that pompous prick the second he saw him again. He could at least respect the effort and skill the Woode twins and Lestrange used to get back at him for the overpowered Hair-Loss Spell. But Tarquin? How Piper could possibly find pleasure in this poignantly pitiful person was plainly preposterous.

Tom's anger did not abate as he angrily tore open the wrapping of Piper's present to find they had given him a rather old, faded sky-blue and gold bound, book titled Jinxes for the Jinxed by Alberta Toothill with a note attached to it that said in Piper's handwriting:

My mother found this copy while she was cleaning out our family's library. I have one of my own and I expect a duel upon our first meeting back in the Hideout. Study well, I'm coming for your title, Riddle.

This brightened his mood a little as he opened Albus's gift, a fresh stock of candy and sweets from Sugarplums along with a small note that asked him to come to his office after dinner. Tom's anger switched to mild confusion as he pondered the meaning of the note. Aside from his confrontation over his use of the house-elf's magic on Halloween, Albus had not singled out or attempted a dialogue with Tom since he'd gotten to Hogwarts. Tom had assumed this would happen, given that he now had to watch over hundreds of students and Tom was simply one of them. So, Tom spent much of the morning, skipping lunch in the Great Hall, in the common room reading Toothill's book and taking notes of certain jinxes. He was particularly fond of the vulgar description and illustrations provided for the multi-stage Tentacle Head Jinx.

At just past 1 in the afternoon, Tom walked up the stairs from the dungeon and across the first-floor corridor to find Dumbledore reading while leaning back in a floating armchair whilst a string quartet played him a gentle melody Tom didn't recognize. Not looking up from his book, Albus said over the softening instruments, "Ah, Tom. Good, you got my note. Do you know of Gerald Finzi?"

Tom moved into the classroom and leaned lazily on the side of a desk as he admired the intricate spellwork Dumbledore must be using and answered, "No, sir. Is he the composer of this song?"

Dumbledore's chair slowly lowered with him in it until all four legs were on the ground and he set his book on the desk at the head of the classroom and replied, "Yes. Vastly under-appreciated, I'm afraid. I fear he will remain that way as well, for despite his great talent, his name has yet to be spoken in the same breath as the likes of Chopin, Debussy, or Bach. Yet you, my dear boy, do not suffer from a similar fate. The way I hear it, you are making quite the impression. You have even overcome your own shortfall regarding counter-spells and reversing spells. A feat most your age would not have been able to accomplish alone. I take it you and Piper have used The Room of Requirement as more than just a place to have your own feasts to rival that of the Great Hall in both size and creativity?"

Tom smiled as he moved closer and said, "I have made it a point to be the best in every class. How can I expect to perform the magic of my first wand experience, that beautiful healing flame, if I do not take the chances to push the boundaries of my own magical knowledge?"

Albus chuckled, "Ah, I have missed speaking to you, Tom. Not one of your fellow classmates, I daresay not even the older ones, speak with such clarity and purpose. How far ahead are you?"

Tom continued closer and looking at one of the violins still softly playing the tune, he focused his mind and pointed his wand as he cast, "Colovaria." The violin changed color from a glossy brown to a luminescent magenta. Tom smirked as he continued forward, flicking his wand every few steps to change the color again and again, and haughtily said, "Not too far, Albus. Don't worry, I still learn a bit from you and the other professors."

Albus chuckled again and softly clapped before saying, "I see your confidence has risen with your status. That said, Tom, arrogance does not become you. Take it from an old man whose arrogance defines his past."

Tom stopped just short of Albus's desk and flicked his wand once more to turn the violin back to its original glossy brown and inquired pointedly, "Why now, Albus? What did you call me here for?"

Albus's smile vanished as he replied, "I want to know what happened on the train."

Tom almost took a step back. How could the old man possibly know? Did one of Lestrange's gang say something? Did… Albus interrupted Tom's thoughts and answered, "A young Ravenclaw girl felt it was right to tell me after she saw you and I speaking at breakfast the first day of the term. I think she was right. Now, please, tell me what happened. I only wish to help, as did she when she healed your arm."

This time Tom did take a step back, many steps back, before he turned around and began walking out of the classroom before he noticed the sweat pooling in his hands. Before he remembered what Piper said the first day they met. His fury returned as he asked without turning to face him, "Did you hex me when we met? Back at Wool's?"

Albus, who was staring intently at Tom as he walked away, narrowed his eyes for a bare moment before asking, "What gives you that thought, Tom? No, I did not."

His right hand clenched on his wand, Tom turned around and, unsuccessfully hiding his anger, asked again, "Did you hex me or not, Albus?"

Albus rose from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk as he answered with seemingly genuine concern, "No, Tom. What is bothering you? What has happened? Did something happen after I left you that first day at Wool's? Why didn't you mention this when I picked you up and took you to Diagon Alley?"

Tom raised his wand at Dumbledore and demanded, "What did you do to me, Albus? I want to know why I keep seeing that green light! TELL ME!"

Albus slowly made his way down the aisle towards Tom, his piercing blue eyes locked on the boy's, who tried very hard not to meet his gaze. His hands still at his side, he responded in a calm voice, "Tom, we both know we won't like what will happen if you try to curse me. Now, please tell me what you're talking about. What green light are you seeing?"

Tom couldn't control his shaking now. Couldn't control the tears coming down his face as he couldn't get the memory of killing that couple and their baby out of his mind's eye. It had been so long, months, since he had seen it happen. Months since he had last seen the flash. Why was it propping up now? Why did it have to make him feel… this… whatever this is. What was this? Tom dropped his wand onto the desk to his right as he angrily shook and screamed in place. Albus continued forward until he was right in front of Tom and placed the same hand, the same hand of reassurance Tom didn't know he needed on his shoulder as Albus asked him again, "What's happened Tom?"

Now the flashes came. Again and again Tom relived the moment he killed them. Relived the agony he felt when he tried to kill the boy and the green light enveloped the room. Tom shook but every time his instinct to push away or wandlessly curse Albus into oblivion, his strength failed him. Albus didn't move to embrace him, he simply sat on top of the desk and kept his hand on Tom's shoulder and waited. For a few minutes, Tom filled the room with his wails and sobs. Just standing with his head down and hearing his own lament echo back at him from the walls of the room.

When his heart finally calmed and his body stopped shaking, Tom looked up and with as much strength he could muster and said as he gazed into Albus's eyes and said, "On the train, I had a dream… a vision… I know not… I saw whoever's body I was in kill a young wizard couple and their baby in their home. They… I… I don't know… The green light was from the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra. But that wasn't the first time I saw it, the light I mean. The first few nights after I met you at Wool's for the first time, I had nightmares that always ended with a flash of green light. They didn't stop until I gave Stubby and the others their stuff back, so I thought it was done. But then, after I met Lestrange's gang and fell asleep on the train, I had the full thing. And then, when I tried to…"

Albus patiently waited for Tom to continue but when he didn't, Albus finished his sentence, "When you tried to hex Ms. Keswick…"

Tom shook his head in confusion for a second, and then nodded as he continued, "Yes… When… When I tried to hex the Ravenclaw girl, Keswick, I saw the short vision of the green light again. It was the first time it had happened while I was awake and it startled me so much I ran. I heard Tarquin yelling something after me but I just kept going. That's how Piper and I met, in the Room of Requirement. When we tested it out and when I tried to hex them too and saw the same green light, we assumed the commonality was something stopping me from harming others. It even happened again when I jinxed that git…"

Albus sternly corrected him, "Student, Tom. When you jinxed young Mr. Lestrange."

Tom tensed a little, not expecting Albus to defend Rodulph, but resumed anyway, "When I jinxed him, my anger towards him made seeing the light less impactful and my will to punish him pushed through to the point that the spell was too powerful and made him bald."

Albus sat back on the desk, arms crossed in contemplation, before returning his eyes to Tom and said, "Interesting. First, I will say this only once more. I swear to you, I did not place a single spell on you the day we met. I did place a Tracking Charm on your fellow orphan's belongings that you had stolen to ensure you complied with my terms. The moment you placed each of them back, the enchantment ended. Now, as for this vision you are having. What can you remember about the couple? Was there anything unnatural or out of the ordinary you can remember?"

Tom sat on the desk and racked his brain, painfully trying to remember the contents of the dream. Tom had never been outside London, so he didn't know if houses outside the city looked different from those in it, though it certainly did look different from those he had known. There was something odd, and as he remembered it, he told Albus, "The lights in the house… and something odd in their living room. Their television— It's a Muggle invention that moves pictures like magical photography— theirs had something I have never seen on a tv before. It had color and the picture wasn't grainy like ours. And their clothes were different too. I've never seen people dressed like them before. Not even wizards."

Albus was now stroking his beard as he listened close, his eyes never leaving Tom. After a moment or so of silence between them, Albus returned his hand to Tom's shoulder as he stood and said, "Tom, I will need to think on this. I have known many to claim to see the future and fewer still who actually can. And none of them remember a single detail of their experience. Their prophetic moments come at the cost of their own memory and the details as such are only recorded so long as an observer chooses to do so. I wish I had an answer for you, my boy, but alas you have done what many foolishly deem impossible and have stumped me. Here…"

Albus conjured a plate of biscuits and dark chocolate on the desk on the desk beside Tom and concluded, "Have some of these. The chocolate will help. I must return to my study to think and read. Have as much as you like. Should you see this vision, in either long or short form, please notify me immediately. This… This is interesting."

As Tom watched Albus slowly ascend the stairs at the back of the classroom to his office, he wondered what Albus could possibly be thinking. He had known about him trying to hex that girl at Tarquin's behest. He was a little disappointed the girl with the piercing eyes he met on the boats told Dumbledore about his arm but that feeling faded as he took his first bite of a dark-chocolate bar from the platter. Taking a few minutes to eat more of the bar and a couple biscuits, Tom got up and left the classroom with more questions than he came in with but an odd sense of relief after having released every pent up emotion he didn't know he had in the first place. He hadn't cried that much in his life and if Mrs. Cole was truthful, he didn't even cry when his mum died in childbirth.

Tom wondered where it all came from as he continued his slow walk back down to the Slytherin common room and down again to his empty dorm, having been the only Slytherin first-year to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday break. Almost as soon as he crawled into bed, Tom fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, and the following week before the start of term, Tom spent most of his time lounging in the common room or otherwise testing his knowledge of the Grand Staircase's patterns. Only once did he miscalculate how the case that revolved between the 2nd and 7th floor dropped in elevation as if to fool someone into believing it would attach to the 5th floor but instead attached to the 4th. He also found that he could not place a further charm on any of the separate staircases to change their color. Which disappointed him because color-coding them would solve nearly every problem they posed as it would be easy to simply step onto the corresponding cases in order by color to reach your destination. But alas, Tom mastered his boredom and eventually did 3 full circuits of the Grand Staircase and collapsed from exhaustion in his bed the night before students would return from their holiday.

When Tom woke the next day, he used the excitement of Piper returning to fuel him through his morning as he planned a surprise for them when they got back to their hideout. What he did not anticipate, however, was Piper to beat him to the 7th floor that morning. And to not be alone. While Piper was leaning against the wall with their school bag laying against it, Tarquin D'auferio the 4th was walking away with a wide smile on his face and waving them goodbye. Tom passed right by them both and after making sure the pretty-boy was out of sight, stormed into the Room of Requirement. As Piper skipped inside and dropped their things on a Slytherin cushion, they gleefully prodded Tom, "I sense I hath strucketh a nerve-eth. He was just thanking me for helping him control his wand. Which I assure you isn't innuendo."

Tom didn't listen. As he took off his robes and rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt and loosened his Slytherin tie, he said gruffly, "Take out your wand."

Piper scoffed and rolled their eyes as they too took off their robes, acknowledging the challenge. With a twitch of their head, they morphed their hair into a loose bun and took out their wand as they retorted, "That's how this is gonna go, Tom? You should know better than to think you own me. But if you need to be put in your place, I'll gladly do it."

Tom's anger towards Tarquin, at his nightmares, and now Piper boiled over as he bellowed with his wand pointed at Piper's head, "Mutatio Skullus!" Piper just barely ducked out of the way and their smirk vanished as they walked forward with their wand at their side. Tom continued to hurl hexes and curses at them, Piper always seeming to but just one step out of the way until they were just a few feet away and pointed their wand directly at Tom.

As Tom pointed his wand so close to Piper's face that it touched the top of their nose as they both breathed heavily, Piper sighed and without lowering their wand and said, "You done? Because if you're not, I'm gonna end this here and seal this room off to you for good. Then you can fend for yourself against Tarquin, against Lestrange, and every other student who wants your head on a pike." Tom didn't lower his wand as he felt his adrenaline hit its peak. His vision was starting to cloud over as his fury consumed him. How could Piper betray him like this? Choosing Tarquin, of all people? He had to know.

Keeping his wand leveled, Tom asked just loud enough for Piper to hear, "Why him, Pipe? Why that twit of all people?"

Piper lowered their wand and batted Tom's out of the way as they lurched forward and forced Tom into their first hug. As they held him there, they whispered in his ear, "Because that twit needed to be reminded that so long as you and I are friends, he cannot touch you. Because even though he may be an idiot and his pranks often go too far, he isn't that bad." Piper squeezed him before releasing him and sitting on the floor before continuing, "He reminds me a lot of you. He's not as conflicted as you but he has his own demons to tend with. Not to mention the pressure from both within his family and without."

Tom started to calm down as he slumped to sit on the floor with Piper and asked, "What do you mean? What pressure could a model of perfection like him have?"

Piper smirked and replied as they leaned back and relaxed on their palms, "Do you remember what the Sorting Hat said when it touched his head?" Tom didn't really listen to what it said, simply focused on how annoying he thought the boy was as he slipped-fives with everyone like he was a movie star, so he shrugged. Piper continued, "It said ex Merlini Gravis. By Merlin's grave. I assumed you know who Merlin is."

Tom nodded and said, "Albus and I stopped by the door to his vault in Gringotts before going to my own. Why does he matter?"

Piper chuckled and said, "Okay, I'm just gonna gloss over the fact that Albus took you to the most secure vault in the world and say that Tarquin's father, before he died a Squib, was the last remaining member of a long hidden line supposedly connected to Merlin himself. Being the heir of Merlin is part of some prophecy told ages ago about the fall of the wizarding world and the rise of said heir to restore us to power. Of course, no one has ever actually heard the prophecy, but that doesn't change how the myth was spread and changed across time. When my mother told me the story, even before the D'auferio's moved into Godric's Hollow, it was Merlin himself who told the prophecy of a war where magic and muggle alike would fight a common enemy and the heir would either be their grace or doom."

Tom laughed out loud and said, "So, you're telling me that wizards are so sure of the rise of a 'chosen one' that they are willing him to treat him like magical royalty? They've lost their marbles!"

Piper laughed too and said, "I don't believe it, personally, but I've seen first-hand how much pressure he is under. His mom is a good woman, but growing up she groomed him to be this façade of perfection and it weighs heavy on him. He's not like you, who can live up to the image you portray. He isn't a great wizard and the only thing he is even remotely good at is potion-making. And contrary to what most people think, he isn't wealthy. His dad was a Squib and his mom is a Muggle, so there wasn't much money there in the first place. I'm not saying it warrants him being a git to everyone as payback, but I get the want to rebel against the people who want to control you."

Tom nodded and thought a bit before saying as he got up to gather his things, "I get it. Alright? I get it. Maybe I'll ease up on him. Just don't bring him in here, or I won't hold back."  
Piper laughed mockingly and replied, "Okay, wunderkind. I didn't even cast a spell and I beat you. And you can still give him a rough go of it, just don't overdo it. He's not the one you should cast your snake-vomit curse on. I don't even think Lestrange deserves it. Bugger that! Which reminds me, Sluggy is having a meeting for our house and we're probably already late for that. Let's go."

Following their lead, Tom left the Room of Requirement with Piper and they effortlessly descended the Grand Staircase arm in arm and wound their way down to the Slytherin Common Room where Professor Slughorn was already deep into one of his infamous monologues about his many famous friends and associates.

"...and I told him, next time, don't sneak a bottle of firewhiskey onto the pitch!" Most of the Slytherins in the room laughed heartily, albeit fakely as Tom and Piper took their seats on the periphery. Slughorn noticed them as they came in and beckoned them both to sit with him on the couch. He clapped Tom on the shoulder and gave a narrow eyed, curt nod to Piper, who, much to the genuine delight of the students in the room, had since turned just their head into his but with obscenely cocked eyes and a forked tongue. Slughorn continued, "Ah yes, glad you could join us! I was just telling Alphard here about my adventures with the Irish National Team back before the War. Their keeper that year, Rian O'Keane, a dear, dear friend he was, was notoriously sloshed the day of the Quidditch World Cup and they still won by 70 points! Tragic that he died, of spattergroit no less. Anyway, I've kept you all long enough. Welcome back from break everyone; get your last days' rest while you can. You'll need it. Especially for my class, we will be going over potion detection via smell. A harrowing endeavor even for the mighty."

As everyone else left the common room to enjoy their last few hours before curfew, Slughorn piped up as Tom and Piper walked over to a table, "Tom and Piper, may I join you?"

Looking at each other with momentary confusion, Piper having changed back to 'normal', they both nodded and the professor got up with an audible 'oof' and sat with them at a table by the fireplace. Slughorn summoned them all a glass of pumpkin juice and after taking a hefty sip of his own, Slughorn wiped his mouth and said, "Tom, and you too Piper, are both outstanding students. Truly. I would like you to join a little club I am starting this year. The young Black brothers, the dashing Woode twins and Mr Lestrange, two fascinating ravenclaw girls, and young master D'auferio have already agreed to go to my first party, a sort of celebration of the new year. What do you say?"

Piper's eyes don't leave Slughorn' as they asked, emotionless, "What's my role?"

Slughorn chortles and scratches his stomach for a second before responding, "Oh my dear Nobel, I am not one to make the same mistake twice. You are there as a guest and I will not ask you to be my circus elephant. Simply as my guest."

Piper shrugged and joked, "If there's food and the opportunity to make both Lestrange and Tarq' look like fools, I'm in."

Tom nodded and questioned, "Will it just be us students or will other professors be there as well?" Tom wondered if Albus would approve or at least come if Tom asked. They hadn't seen each other much after what happened after Christmas and Tom wasn't sure if he had been forgiven for threatening the professor.

Slughorn took another hearty gulp of juice and replied, "Ah, yes. A few friends from the ministry are coming. A few former students of mine. Another member of the Irish National Squad should be there as well. I thought it would be a good idea for young to see what accomplished, well connected wizards are like and make some early connections for themselves as well. You can be as great a wizard as you like, but without a friend in a high place, what is the point?" Slughorn laughed again before asking, "So, will I see you there, this Saturday at 8?"

Tom and Piper both gave a mutual look of 'why not' and nodded as Slughorn clapped his hands together and drained the last of his juice, which Tom suspected may have had a little alcohol in it as the professor stumbled a little as he exited the common room. Tom laughed when, the moment the door to the common room closed, Piper immediately transformed into a slightly larger copy of Slughorn and purposely failed at chugging the rest of their barely touched pumpkin juice and covering their face, and their too-tight robes, in the sickly-orange juice. When Tom readied his wand to scour it away, Piper further mocked their professor and said in a heavily drunk portrayal, "NO! No… I've.. I've goddit, mmmmokay Mizzer Riddle? Just gotta…"

Piper fake stumbled around and waved their wand at various things before finally steadying it on their own face and said, "Scurge-mer-ferr… Nope, goddit. Yup. Sour-giphy. Ok, one more time. Scourgey Murphy." Piper fell backward onto a table and feigned blacking out and Tom and Piper both erupted into a fit of laughter that lasted long after Piper caught their breath to seriously cast the Scouring Charm. Tom was glad Piper was back, but even his elation for their shenanigans didn't stop him from wondering what their future will bring. Or how Tarquin would fit if he and Piper became friends, or more, instead of just neighbors at home.


	10. The Dilettante’s Dinner

Their first week back from term, the last thing Tom Riddle expected was to have an instant competitor and rival in Tarquin Alexander D'auferio the 4th. It seems that Piper was correct; now that his wand no longer backfired or wantonly disobeyed him, Tarquin became quite formidable. Tom was no longer the center of the professors' attention and sharing this glory with Tarquin both excited and enraged him. Tom even made a point of challenging Tarquin in their Wednesday flying lessons.

Tom never had any problems controlling a broom, albeit a slow one, but he wasn't spectacular either. Tarquin, on the other hand, was already being recruited by the Gryffindor squad to be their star chaser the next year. Tom paid the price of shame after he foolishly challenged the boy to a race and was soundly defeated. Even the flying instructor, Madame Lyness, joined the crowd of cheering students as Tarquin landed and ran his hands through his hair, smiling at Tom in his victory and praise.

Tom and Tarquin's rivalry was no more indisputable than in Potions, where both had always been the top of their class. During their lesson on the first Friday after the start of the new term, Professor Slughorn divided them into groups and tasked them with identifying a set of 3 vials on their desks.. Tom was disappointed when he was placed with Lestrange and his gang while Piper was handed over to Tarquin. Slughorn announced the award: 10 points to the winning group and an additional 20 if they could identify a fourth that was sitting on Slughorn's desk. It was luminously green and Slughorn said it was the most dangerous potion in the room.

Tarquin sequestered their group in a far corner, Piper giving Tom a wink as they followed. Tom swore he saw them and Tarquin exchange a smile before they turned their backs and started working. Meanwhile, Rodulph, Aelwynn, Ashwynn, and Nott, who had been consistently middling in most subjects, didn't lift a finger as Tom began pulling out his books and ingredients. When Tom was midway through identifying the first potion, Aelwynn Rosier asked Tom condescendingly, "So, Riddle, how does it feel knowing you're the only mudblood in Slytherin? I mean, the half-blood children of blood traitors are bad enough, but the Sorting Hat must have been mistaken to put you in our house."

Tom looked up and asked gruffly, "If you paid more attention to your work than you did your hair and blood status, Rosier, Tarquin wouldn't be ahead of us already. Isn't being a Slytherin about finding a way to win, no matter the cost?"

Aelwynn flushed, ran his hand through his hair again, and as he was about to rebut, Rodulph held up his hand and said, "You have a point, Riddle, for once. Shall we truce until the points are won?"

Rodulph held out his hand just as Tom finished identifying the first potion, the Wiggenweld potion, and after writing it down on a piece of parchment, Tom shook the boy's hand without looking up and got right back to work on testing the properties of the second potion. Rodulph smiled and nodded to his gang and they finally got to work. Meanwhile, Tarquin and Piper were already past the second potion, The Girding Potion, and were stuck on the third, a foul smelling black concoction.

With Lestrange's gang's help, Tom was able to catch up to Tarquin's group, who were all frantically reading through a set of books scattered across their table. Lucky for Tom but unlucky for Cuthred Nott, the latter accidentally knocked the last vial over and onto his hand, which promptly numbed and flopped around like it was made of rubber. Tarquin saw this as he was passing by and ran back to his group but it was too late. Tom quickly confirmed his idea with a look through his notes and wrote down his answer, Doxycide, and raised his hand with the parchment just seconds before Tarquin could do so. As Professor Slughorn walked over to their desk, unseen by Tom, Tarquin pulled Piper over to the front of the class and began examining the fourth mystery vial.

Professor Slughorn, impressed by their speed and group effort, which Tom silently scoffed at since he still did most of the legwork, said, "Yes,yes, good work to you. I am glad my house has a renewed commitment to potion-making. You had me worried for a moment, Lestrange. Maybe Tom is a good influence on your group. 40 points to Slytherin, indeed." Tom peeked around and saw that Tarquin and Piper weren't at their desk and he looked in fear as he saw them both huddled over Slughorn's desk. He immediately got up as Slughorn moved over to examine the next group.

Tarquin smiled and pressed it into their hands and said without looking at Tom, who was trying his best to weave his way through the desks between him and them, "Come on, Piper. It can't be that dangerous. Sluggy wouldn't just leave something deadly lying around. Just get a good whiff and we'll win our group 20 points each."

When Tom got to them, he put out his hand and said, "Come on Piper, give it to me. Tarquin is just using you to keep me from winning this for our house."

Piper turned away from him a little and said, "You just can't let anyone else win, can you? If I want to help Tarquin, or Lestrange, or anyone I want, I will. You and I are friends Tom, but we won't continue to be if you keep being possessive."

Tom's frustration escalated as he made a grab for the potion but missed when Piper pulled back with a look of disgust and confusion. Tom tried again, this time they shoved him back and tried to use Tarquin as a barrier. Tom's anger exploded out of him and without meaning to, the vial in Piper's hands shattered. The glass cut her hand as it broke and even though it was a small cut, Tom noticed how it mingled with the green liquid from the vial. For a moment, as Piper looked angrily at Tom and pulled out a small piece of glass that stuck in their palm, it looked like none of it had entered their bloodstream.

But then a despair Tom had never seen before took over Piper's body as they crumbled to the ground and began to scream with their hands clutching their head. Horrified by whatever they were seeing, Piper lost control of their metamorphosis and they were stuck in a never ending cycle of transformations. One moment they were sprouting long whiskers out of a trunk of an elephant on their forehead and the next they were simultaneously a wrinkly woman with purple eyes and a ghoul. Both Tarquin and Tom stood in shock as Slughorn came over and started searching through his desk as he demanded, "Which one of you shattered the vial? WHICH ONE?"

Tarquin only had to point at Tom before Slughorn pulled out a set of vials and yelled, "60 points from Slytherin, pack your things. I will speak to you when class is over.

Tom's fear became a seething anger that, despite his checkered past, he had never felt. Tarquin was going to pay for this Tom watched as Piper continued to scream it only seemed to get worse as their scar began to creep up and recede back and they cried, "NO, PLEASE! I swear, I'm not his granddaughter! Please not the…" Piper continued to scream as they scratched at their large scar until it began to bleed and Tom stepped back in horror and couldn't take his eyes off them as he packed his things. Lestrange, who had been standing with his arms crossed as he too watched, crouched down to help Tom pick up his books and said just loud enough for Tom to hear, "If you want your revenge, meet me after Slughorn's party. We'll make him pay."

Professor Slughorn wrestled Piper's mouth open and administered the antidote, wincing when they grew a pair of fangs that pierced his skin, and over the course of a few minutes, Piper's fits subsided. Their scar was still visible as they came back to consciousness and saw the entire class, Tom included back at his table, staring at them. Tarquin gave them some water and started whispering in their ear as they sat up and looked at Tom, tears meandering down their face.

They covered up their scar until they could transform it back to their normal presentation. Slughorn put his potions equipment away and dismissed them all for lunch but kept his eyes locked on Tom. Tom could only look on at Tarquin, who was continuing to console Piper as they packed their things. He sat in anger as he watched the boy use a Healing Charm to close Piper's cuts and held her by their face, right where their scar is, before they got up and left without so much as a look at Tom.

Tom stayed behind and waited as Slughorn sat quietly behind his desk with his hands folded and a look of disappointment Tom didn't expect. Slughorn rarely showed negative emotions, not even when another student did so poorly at recreating the Cure for Boils potion that they themselves sprouted boils everywhere on their body. After a minute of painful silence, the professor beckoned him forward with his hand and when Tom wouldn't meet his eyes, he said in a low voice, "Tom, this is not the first time your anger has gotten the better of you. Your dear friend was subjected to the Drink of Despair because your anger towards young Mr. D'auferio boiled over. If this happens again, regardless if it is in my class or not, I will give you detention for a month."

Tom looked up and when he met Slughorn's eyes, he muttered, "I know, professor. I know. I must learn to control my magic. I assume I am no longer invited to your party tomorrow?"

Slughorn took a minute to answer, pouring himself a small drink of a clear liquid Tom suspected was alcoholic by its stench, and said after a small sip, "No, you may still attend. I think it would be a good opportunity for you to learn from your mistake. And no doubt make it up to Ms. Nobel."

Tom's lip twitched and mumbled, "It's not Ms."

Slughorn leaned forward and asked, "I'm sorry, what was that Tom? Speak up please. I may not be old but my hearing is not as good as it once was."

As Tom turned to leave the classroom, he replied with a grunt, "Piper isn't a girl. Or a boy. And I suggest you learn that before the party." Slughorn didn't have time to retort as Tom closed the classroom door behind him and walked alone to the Room of Requirement.

He wasn't surprised when he opened the door and saw that Piper wasn't there. He was still angry that Tarquin baited him into breaking the glass. For causing a rift between him and Piper. Maybe Lestrange wasn't so bad, if he too wanted to put Tarquin in his place. Tom let his anger fester and simmer as he skipped lunch and uncomfortably laid on a black and green cushion and plotted his revenge. For the rest of their classes together, Piper didn't sit next to Tom, nor exchange a glance or greeting. Tom did his best to focus on his work for the rest of the day but found it difficult to keep his mind of wondering why Piper was suddenly taking Tarquin's side. Couldn't they see how he was baited? How Tarquin was obviously trying to keep them apart?

Now his anger was starting to point at Piper again and when Lestrange and his gang sat around Tom at dinner that night, Tom ate up their compliments and praises just like they were the teachers. Lestrange especially laid it on thick, pointing out how even when Tom cursed off his hair, he was secretly impressed.

Tom spent most of the next day before Slughorn's party sitting alone in the Room of Requirement, reading through and practicing new curses and attempting to create his own, to no avail. Every time he sat down or tried to do anything new, his mind couldn't let go of Piper's betrayal. Yes, he shouldn't have lost control, but they also shouldn't have sided with Tarquin. They were his friend. He kept their secret. If Tarquin had just put down the vial and not egged them both on, everything would be swell. The entire school wouldn't now know that the face Piper presented to people was a fake. It was alright when they were transforming into odd variations of their professors or goblins for a laugh. But the deception of it all, in their normal form, was too far. If they had found out and Tom was there to protect them, it wouldn't be a problem. But he couldn't trust Tarquin to be there. Tarquin was probably the one spreading the rumors.

Tom's anger was now manifesting in gusts of wind vibrating out from where he stood in the middle of the room. Each new wave followed his quick, enraged breaths. Tom knew he needed to calm down or he might destroy this room so he asked it with gritted teeth, "Give me 20 dummies." Per his command, a new section of the room appeared behind him and in a perfect circle around a central point were the 20 test-dummies. He stomped over and stood in the middle. When he looked up, he noticed that their bodies were red and gold. Tom smirked at the insight of the room and he cast every harmful spell he knew in succession at each of them. 4 burst into various colors of flame, 2 exploded, 1 reduced to ashes, and the rest propelled backward 20 feet by the force of a powerful Explosion Charm.

Out of breath from screaming every spell, Tom collapsed to the ground in relief. His anger left him and all that was left was apathy and a sadness he didn't know he could feel. He wanted Piper back. And quite possibly the only way to do so, even if it went against his promise to leave Tarquin alone, was to join Lestrange for whatever the wicked boy had planned.

Before leaving to shower up for the party, Tom, whose voice was growing hoarse already, used what strength he had left to pick up all the books his anger-waves sent flying and re-fluff the cushions. He took the path least travelled back down to the Slytherin common room and, lacking any formal wear, Tom set down his robes and tied his tie with a fancier knot than the normal half-windsor he normally used. As he is leaving his dorm, Rodulph is leaning alone on the door frame in a dashing 3-piece black suit with a glossy green tie, a black hamburg hat with a green ribbon he had tilted to the side, and probably the shiniest black shoes Tom had ever seen. Tom resists the temptation to set him on fire as he returns his face to the facade he gives everyone but Piper and says, "Who knew slime could clean up so well?"

Rodulph actually laughed and slapped his knee before wiping his eyes and said, "I knew I liked you, Riddle. You're not a dullard like Avery and Nott."

Tom moved to pass Rodulph and exit the dorm but the latter raised his arm to grasp Tom and said, "I see flattery won't work either… I want your help to bring down Tarquin."

Despite being tall for his age, Tom looked up at Rodulph Lestrange and smirked, "Unless you want that arm to sprout spiders, lower your arm and tell me what you want, Lestrange."

Rodulph smirked right back and guided them both towards the black couches by the fireplace and when he lazily flops down on one, he continued, "Tarquin's becoming too confident. He's targeting Slytherins now, not just Mudbloods. It would be one thing if we got him first, but we've kept our distance out of respect for his name. Then he got me this morning." He winced as he loosened his tie and pulled his white shirt down a little to show a mild burn near his collar bone.

Tom scoffed and asked with a chuckle, "You couldn't block a simple charm?"

Rodulph tightens his tie back up and responds, "He caught me and… He caught me outside the baths. I didn't have my wand on me."

Tom failed to suppress a laugh and replied, "Please tell me you dropped your towel and you're only really here because some Hufflepuff girl saw your high hanging fruit?"

Rodulph drew his wand and sent the globe on the mantle above the fireplace hurtling towards Tom, who stopped it in midair with a lazy casting of, "Impedimenta."

Rodulph put his wand away and grunted as Tom guided the globe gently back in its place, "No, I didn't drop my towel. And I don't… I don't have high hanging fruit. I have… average… Whatever… Look, he has your girl now and…"

Tom jerked his wand up to point at Lestrange's face and sneered, "Two things: not a girl, and not… They're not mine. They're not anybody's."

Rodulph half-ass raised his hands and said, "Sorry, I'm new to whatever the blazes… they are. I've never met someone not… from either side of the pitch. What I'm getting at is that you bogged the bed and now Tarquin's got Piper. You want… them… back. Whatever it is you two do outside class, you're doing it alone now. But you don't have to. Join me and my group and we'll put that walking facade back in his place. Heir of Merlin or not, you're still better than him and I'm better at planning than you both. So, my plan, your spells."

Tom lowered his wand and put it back in his trousers before looking up at the ceiling and wondering, hoping he wouldn't start seeing those visions again if he does. He hated that feeling they forced him to feel. It wasn't natural. It wasn't that he never felt fear, it's that he has no control over it and has no way to get over it. However, he also had no other way of getting Piper back and making Tarquin stop for good. He didn't want to think of what his magic would do if Tarquin came after him in earnest. Albus undoubtedly would notice and Tom would be on the first train home to London. But life at Hogwarts had become immeasurably better when he met Piper. Tom thought he could do it alone, but now that he'd seen what friendship was like, not having it was worse than being stuck at Wool's.

Tom winced as he reached forward with an open hand, which Rodulph smiled at and firmly shook. As he got back up and buttoned his suit again, Rodulph said with a clap, "Okay, good. We'll discuss logistics with the twins and Rosier after Slughorn's. Try to keep a cool head, it's best we don't tip our hand. In fact, if you and I were gits to each other at the party, it might hide our accord even more. Only you and I know of this arrangement. I'll go collect Apollo and Artemis and get there a little after you. It's been a bang, Tom."

With that, Rodulph left and shortly afterward finally Tom left the Slytherin common room and made his way through the dungeons to Professor Slughorn's office. He had never been there before and was pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't dark and damp like the rest of the Hogwarts dungeons. Instead, it was warmly lit and extravagantly decorated for the occasion. Tula, Piper, Tarquin, and a small Ravenclaw girl Tom had never seen were already there and sitting at a large, wooden, circular table with silver plates and cutlery. Piper and Tula were wearing a night-sky patterned dress and a frilly deep blue gown fashioned after her Choctaw heritage respectively. Tarquin was wearing formal dress robes with gold and red accents while the Ravenclaw girl, like Tom, was just wearing their normal school attire without their robes.

Tom's fury abated for a moment as he saw Tarquin and Tula laugh loudly at Piper's impression of Professor Picard. Even Tom couldn't hold back a snort which erases any chance of anger. Even the guests, who had all been chatting in other corners of the room, took notice and laughed as well. The only one in the room who seemed unfazed was the Ravenclaw girl, who had their eyes closed and faced the ceiling. Tom wondered what kind of concentration it took to not notice someone as flamboyant as Piper.

When they changed their face back to normal, sans scar, Piper looked up and saw Tom with a face he could only assume was a mix of pain and regret. Tom hoped it wasn't regret for coming, knowing he was too. They look back down and now it was Tarquin and Tula's turn to look at him, anger and mild curiosity on their faces respectively. With a rough clap on his back, Professor Slughorn came up from behind Tom and said, "If I'd've known you needed robes, Tom, I'd have my dear friend Master Tattings fix you up. Welcome, Tom, now all we are missing are the Black boys, the twins, and Mr. Lestrange. I suppose we can start."

With a clink of a goblet he conjured out of thin air, Slughorn announced, "Welcome all, alumni and students alike, to the first of what I think will be many iterations of what I'm going to call the 'Slug Club'. The goal, as I have no doubt beaten into your brains by now, is to bring together professionals and students to have fun and gain friends. As a devout Slytherin myself, I recognize that even those as magically talented as young Tom here cannot find success without connections. Now, please take your seats. I have already asked that this room be temporarily added to the house-elves network and food should be ready shortly."

Tom was thankful that Piper was flanked by Tula and Tarquin for he knew sitting next to them would be a quick way to end whatever chance he had of getting them back. So, he sat on a diagonal to them with a few interesting alumni to discuss magic with. Tom hadn't noticed her before when he walked in, but he was glad when Professor Whitlocke sat down to his right with the tall, red-haired woman she was talking to. Tom was content to sit quietly but Whitlocke immediately introduced him, "Claire, this is Tom Riddle, the firs' year I tol' yeh about who used a Siphonin' Spell before thay fairst class even started. Tom, meet Claire Powall, thay editor of Challenges en Charms."

Tom, not knowing who she was, resumed his facade smile and shook her hand as he said, "Pleasure to meet you, Madame Powall. I have not had the distinct pleasure of reading your work. What do you publish?"

Claire is just about to answer before an already noticeably sloshed Slughorn walks over and puts a rough hand on her shoulder and interrupts, "Only the best charms magazine in England, my boy. Why, when I taught Powall here, I always wished the points she got for her excellent work came to my house, but alas, she was a Hufflepuff! I would have understood if she was a Ravenclaw, that's where the clever lie! But a Hufflepuff outdoing them all? Never heard of it!"

Claire looked up with her lip raised in mild disgust and brushed Slughorn's hand off her shoulder, which he almost didn't recover from, and said, "As he said, I am the editor of a Charms periodical. People, as your Transfiguration professor Dumbledore has done on many occasions, submit essays on topics about Charms and we publish the ones which have the most merit." Claire peered into her rosé filled glass goblet as she swirled and sipped it before setting it down on a floating platter next to her and resumed, "So, Corra tells me you're quite ahead of your classmates. Would you mind showing me your talents? While I trust her judgement, I don't make them myself without seeing it first."

Tom, liking that he had an opportunity to show off in front of both this new adult and of course Tula, who he hadn't seen once since the sorting, replied, "Yeah… Sure." He thought for a moment before latching onto an idea and with a double twirl of his wand cast, "Avis."

In the air behind Claire's chair, a flock of 4 starlings with the plumage of a phoenix popped into existence and circled the room. Tom held out one of his arms, hoping it would work, and thankfully one by one each of them came to perch on his forearm just below his rolled up sleeve. From behind Tom, Tula clapped loudly and when Tom looked back and smiled genuinely at her, he swore that for just one beat his heart exploded. His face flushed, another first, and he quickly looked back to Corra and Claire who were also lightly clapping and gushed, "I didn't think that would work. I've been having problems controlling which birds appeared and how colorful they were. All I was able to conjure over the break was dull gray chickadees."

Corra held out her finger and one of the phoenix-starlings hopped over to it and as she began to lightly stroke its neck, she said, "I knew yeh ware good, but I didn'a ken yeh were thess good. I denna ken I could do this when I graduated. That's aces, Tom."

Tom nodded, still a little flushed from both the excitement of finally casting it properly and seeing Tula's smile. Claire, who immediately took out a pad and quill when Tom cast the spell, looked up and asked, "Tom, can we do an interview? This is some stellar charm work and I'd love t…."

Rodulph Lestrange and the twins Apollo and Artemis Woode, who were in matching white tailcoat suits with bright green bow ties and white gloves, barged into the room laughing loudly. Tom, both annoyed at them stealing his spotlight and seizing the chance to fool Tarquin, dispelled the starlings and pointed his wand at Artemis' bow tie to cast, "Ducklifors!" Transforming out of the 'tie' part of the bow tie was a large beak that appeared followed by a loud, "HOOOOOONK", filling the room.

Everyone erupted into laughter, including Piper who Tom was elated to see laughing so hard they did their patented snort every 4th gasp. After nearly a minute of Apollo and Artemis both failing to shut the duck beak, Tom walked over and cast, "Finite," before returning to his seat to see an even more interested Clair Powall. When he was sure no one was looking, he and Rodulph Lestrange exchanged a wink. When he saw Artemis wink with her blue eye, he knew she was in the loop too.

Once everyone settled into their seats, Slughorn returned with his goblet of dark red wine recently refilled and he said with a slight slur, "Welcome, my dear, dear friends. I am sad to report that both of the Black brothers have been put in detention. Some nonsense about trying to smuggle in alcohol from the Hog's Head. Not a place I would have attempted but, my palette is as refined as their bloodline. Now that my house has decided it is indeed better late than never, shall we begin the mini-feast? And cheers, everyone, to the beginning of what I know will be an excellent year." As soon as he finished, all of the platters, plates and cups on their giant round table filled with food and drink and a small fountain of chocolate appeared in the center.

Over the course of their many-course meal of everything from decadent venison to caviar, which Tom thought overrated despite how much Slughorn raved about it before it arrived, Tom met and jotted down the information of a half-dozen witches and wizards. A regulatory law clerk for the Statute of Secrecy, a former Gringotts curse-breaker turned Egyptian antiquities author, and a performance tester for the Cleansweep Broom Company named Reginald Whitehorn were just some of the fascinating people Tom met. Claire Powall gave Tom her personal mailing address and promised to send him a letter regarding their impending interview before the end of term. He also met a man who claimed to be a vampire, but was not the vampire Tom expected.

Of the stories Tom read about while at Wool's, he expected to see a pale imitation of a human with fangs that hung out of his mouth, even while closed. This vampire, however, looked relatively normal. He did say that neck-biting and dark magic were the few truths to the myths that even the magical world were plagued by. He regaled Tom with many stories of his current work as a political liaison for the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires, one of which included him being interviewed by the New York Ghost on how he fell in love for the first time with an elderly muggle female that he had bitten nearly 60 years before. If not for the detailed, sensual nature of the vampire's descriptions and reenactments, Tom would have found the man fascinating. He was only saved when Tula made the fountain at the center of the table burst like a pipe and everyone was covered in chocolate. Tom swore he saw her nod at him while Professor Whitlocke giddily cleaned everyone up before returning to her conversation with an old man in a top hat Tom hadn't met yet.

As the night continued, Tom was careful to only exchange glances of hate towards Lestrange and the Twins and when it came time to leave, they exchanged bare nods before him and his posse left. Slughorn bid everyone a drunken adieu from his tall armchair before clumsily getting up and, with the help of the top-hat wizard, left out the back door. Professor Whitlocke told Tom she looked forward to seeing him in class and Tula, who managed to save some of the chocolate from her intentional explosion, smeared some on his cheek as she left, causing Tom's heart to explode once again. Tom was curious about this new feeling but it quickly faded when he saw Piper and Tarquin holding hands as they left together.

Tom fought off every instinct to follow and ambush them as he sulked back down to the Slytherin Common room only to find Lestrange and his gang waiting on a few couches pulled towards the mildly warm fireplace. When Tom walked up to Lestrange, he once again held out his hand and when Rodulph met his eyes and shook his hand, Tom grunted, "I'm gonna curse that knob-headed maggot's hand off. What's the plan?"


	11. A Gauche Accord

Tom Riddle prepared his mind and body for the flash, tensing his hand as it shook Rodulph Lestrange's, but it didn't come. Surprised, he recoiled and shook it again, expecting punishment for what he knew was a mistake. Confused, he sat back in his chair as Rodulph pulled his own hand back with a raised eyebrow and walked towards the entrance to the common room. Tom saw him beckon someone in and a minute later he was surrounded by a group he never would have thought possible. Not least because this common room was off limits to all other houses. There were 3 Hufflepuff girls, a pair each of Ravenclaw boys and girls, and 11 total Slytherins not including Tom and Rodulph.

Pulling the Slytherin common room couches out to form a circle, the group sat down and waited. Tom was the first to speak, "Okay, I'm guessing these are Tarquin's victims? You don't need to convince me anymore, Rodulph."

One of the Ravenclaw girls, who Tom just noticed was the same one who didn't say a single word at Slughorn's party, glared at Tom with their oddly beautiful hazel eyes as they said, "You're just the muscle, Riddle. We all want to bring him down a notch, not just you and your petty bullshit with your changeling friend."

Tom was about to fire back before Rodulph raised his hand and said, "We're not here to rip out each other's throats. We're here to rip out a lion's. I assume you've all noticed that only one house isn't present? Tarquin hasn't attacked a single Gryffindor; not one. Likely because Dumbledore would have taken notice and sent him home to mummy."

Tom inquired, "So, who are you all and what's Tarquin done to you?"

The Ravenclaw girl, who Tom was actually starting to like because not many took the chance to fire at him, began, "I'm Charlotte Martel. Ravenclaw prefect and top student here. Sorry, Tom. You're still behind the curve. Tarquin didn't get to me, he wouldn't dare. But he did paint the word mott on the book bag and robes of one of my girls because she wouldn't kiss him. That molester cornered her and when she cast a bogey hex to get him off, he destroyed her reputation."

One by one, Tom heard short testimonials from each person and each one made him hate Tarquin that much more and made his disappointment in Piper for choosing that arsehole more profound. The last boy to go, a fellow first year Slytherin boy named Edward, said, "In the first week after we were sorted, Tarquin pushed my cauldron in Potions over and it burned through my entire bag full of books and supplies. I'm not rich like some of you; all of that was already second-hand."

Rodulph walked over and with a smile Tom recognized as fake, he patted the boy's knees and sat down on the arm of the couch and said, "This kid's the reason I called the meet. He can curse me, burn me, try to kill me for all I care. But he went after Edward here. Eddie didn't have the money to buy new supplies and robes. When he came to me and my group, because the professors didn't believe him, we pooled our money and got him set up. And put a body on him to keep safe from Tarquin. He's why we're here."

The Ravenclaw prefect Charlotte snorted and chuckled, "Okay, yeah, the plight of the plebeian is why you're doing this. Okay, Doofy."

Now it was Rodulph's turn to fire back but both of the twins grabbed him by the shoulder and Apollo sneered, "I like your fire, Martel, but don't push it."

Charlotte rolled their eyes, looked to Tom, and asked, "We need a place to really plan this out. I don't want the perpetually sloshed Slug-bug to walk in and see us planning the downfall of the school's pride and joy. Where do you and that metamorphmagus Piper always slink off to?"

Tom leveled his eyes and cautioned, "That's not going to happen, Charlotte."

Charlotte locked eyes with him and after a moment of fidgeting in the deep pockets of her robe where Tom knew she was hiding her wand, she relented, "Fine. How about the hidden passage on the third floor? No one but me has used it since I found it my second year and that walking mustache Redvers can't even use the grand staircase anymore, he's so dulled."

Tom, who didn't know there was a passage off the third floor corridor but made a mental note to find it before their next meeting, responded, "I'd prefer that. I was going to suggest the unused classrooms down the charms corridor but I think Whitlocke uses them to test out new spells sometimes."

The Woode twins exchanged a smirk and a chortle before saying just loud enough together for the group to hear, "That's not all she uses it for."

Tom passed over the comment and said, "So, we chuffed? I need to get to Einswald's essay on wormwood."

Rodulph stood and, with a smile to rival Tom's, suggested "So, how does Monday night after supper sound?" Everyone in the group affirms and as all but the Slytherins leave, Rodulph continues his facade and shakes each of their hands except Charlotte who shoulder checks him on her way out. Rodulph winces and as he comes back to sit between the Woode twins, he says, "If she wasn't a genius, I'd hex her. But a permanent stay in St. Mungo's isn't conducive to my plans."

Tom left them to go to his bed and fell asleep quicker than he imagined, not even making the effort to start his wormwood essay. He spent most of the rest of his weekend in the Room of Requirement, still secretly hoping for Piper to walk in and apologize. But it didn't happen and Tom finished his essay within a few hours and spent the rest of the Sunday lounging in the room and eating pumpkin pasties.

Monday night, after Tom left the Astronomy tower and ate a bare supper of lamb stew, he waited outside the third floor corridor for Charlotte who turned up a few minutes later. She led him down the hall and after twisting the hand of a woman in greek robes, led him down a passage that opened in the wall behind her and into a large room with unlit sconces on the walls. With a wordless flick of her wand, a dozen of them sparked to life and with another flick the set of chairs and tables stacked in the back corner floated to the middle and arranged themselves. Tom knew he needn't be insecure because she was 4 years older than him but it didn't stop him from wanting to show off too. It was mostly because of how nonchalantly she did it all. It was a confidence Tom wanted too.

They sat on separate ends of the same blue cushioned and gold trimmed couch and waited as people trickled in. Charlotte silently read a small tome while Tom practiced blowing air out of his wand with repeated, controlled castings of, "Ventus Minimus," to keep his quill aloft. Unseen by Tom, Charlotte smiled when she looked up from her book to the feather and saw the quiet determination on Tom's face. The Woode twins arrived with a bulging bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and practiced how far they could throw to toss one into the other's mouth. Tom couldn't resist as he broke his spell to cast the normal Ventus spell at one just before it reached Apollo's mouth. It not only blew the bean right into one of the sconces but it also roughly ruffled his hair. Artemis laughed until Apollo stared daggers into her and then lit Tom's quill on fire. When Apollo wasn't looking, Artemis came over to him with a small smile, handed him a brilliant crow-feather quill with a tip sharp enough to prick his finger, and whispered as she perched on the arm of the couch next to him, "He's just mad because Tarquin caught him outside the baths again." When Apollo glared back at her as he joked around with Nott and Mulciber, she poked him in the arm and left to join them.

After a half hour, Rodulph, Ashwynn, and Aelwynn finally walked in and took up the last couch left. Cuthred and Ashwynn sniggered as they looked around and only stopped when Charlotte cleared her throat and said, "So, who's got the word?"

One of the Hufflepuff girls, this one tall with a blond pixie cut and soft blue eyes, raised her hand and relayed, "Tarquin eats lunch with Piper Nobel most days on the grounds by the lake. Tarquin seems to avoid his pranking group during this time and only engages in pranks when Piper isn't around. He is a coward."

Charlotte nodded and said, "Good, anyone else? Where is he vulnerable? I don't have classes with him. What can we use."

Artemis spoke up without holding up her hand, "He's getting more cock-sure by the day. After he left Piper alone at the beach, my brother and I saw him magically tear open the bags of 3 Slytherin girls' while his dimwitted friends distracted them."

Charlotte thanked her and asked one more time, "Anyone else?"

Tom half-heartedly raised his hand and answered, "If we can lower his confidence in his wand, it loses confidence in him. It's a Thestral hair, which are notorious for backfiring. I can subtly cast a counter-charm whenever we're in class and lower his trust to make this more likely to happen."

Charlotte pointed at Tom and said, "Yeah. That's good. Can you do that without attracting attention from the eagle eyes of Dumbledore?"

Rodulph piped up, "We'll keep him busy in Transfiguration tomorrow and thursday. You look like you have a plan for the final strike, Martel. Let's hear it."

Charlotte summoned a rough map of what Tom recognized as the Grand Staircase. It had a legend on the side with numbers corresponding to the different cases and their routes. She pointed with her wand and drew a blue circle around one of them and said, "On Thursday, we trap him on The Orphaned Step."

Tom got up and moved closer to watch as the staircase she pointed at moved around the map, never once attaching to a corridor makes the connection of Whitlocke's threat to Tom's first day of class. He looked down at Charlotte, who was a few inches shorter than Tom despite their age difference, and asked, "Okay, but why and how?"

Artemis Woode separated from her twin, sat on the arm of the couch next to Tom again, and said, "We're gonna get a bunch of students to watch your duel and then pelt him with paint spells when he gets trapped there."

Tom smiled and looked up to Artemis on his left to inquire, "My duel?"

Rodulph, slouching with his back against Apollo Woode, said, "Yeah, Riddle. You're gonna duel him, humiliate him, and then we'll come in for the finisher."

Tom turned his attention to Charlotte to his right and asked with a wry grin, "You sure you don't want a piece? I'm sure you've got more up your sleeve than I do."

Charlotte returned with her own grin and japed, "Humility doesn't suit you, Tommy Boy. No, I'm going to be the distraction this time around. If Dippet suspects I'm part of this, I'm going to lose his recommendation for the ministry. I don't have connections like Ro-doofus here. He's my shot. While you're cursing that git to Tartarus and back, we're going to be having dinner with former Prime Minister Evermonde, Dumbledore, Whitlock, Merrythought, and Einswald in Hogsmeade. The only professors left will be Slughorn, who'll be conveniently indisposed by the Woode twins, and Picard, who always spend their nights in their house on the grounds."

Apollo stood up to join his twin sister and said, "Yeah, we're gonna regale Sluggy with tales of our dad. He'll eat up those old Auror stories from the Great Muggle War." He and Artemis slip each other a five before looking to Rodulph to join them.

Rodulph rolled his eyes and said as he got up to join them, "I'm hating this arrangement already, but ok. While they are off schmoozing Sluggy, me and my boys are going to be gathering the students to the different corridors for the show. The rest of these chumps… I mean these fine students… Will be helping get their houses there as well."

Tom looked over the moving map, taking pride in the fact that he knew some patterns in the cases that Charlotte didn't, and said without looking away, "You still haven't mentioned how he's going to get there in the first place."

The Hufflepuff girl from the previous meeting, who he just remembered from the Sorting as Ruphina Datchery, said from her chair, "I'm going to lure him there. That's all you need to know."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her and turned to Rodulph to say, "What about Piper? If they try to protect him… I'm not going to curse them."

Rodulph clapped Tom on the shoulder and reassured him, "I know. Don't worry, they'll be down in the trophy room with Redvers. He caught her…"

Tom jerked with his hand to reach for his wand and Rodulph put him his hands up in feigned fear and continued, "Sorry… It's hard to get right, you know. Muggles don't even see people like… them… as people. Anyway, Piper got caught using Picard's face to skive off Herbology on Tuesday and now they have detention all week." Tom almost laughs, connecting the dots of their noted absence that day.

Tom sighed, went over every part of the plan in his head a few times and said to Charlotte, "You're sure you can keep Dumbledore at that dinner? If he sees me… If he sees me dueling Tarquin, I'm going to be expelled."

Charlotte smirked and laid a gentle hand on Tom's shoulder as she teased, "Tommy boy, the Woode's may weaponize their family history and money, but I've got more adults in my pocket than Ro-doofus has thoughts about his hair. Dumbledore's loved me since I stepped foot in this school. You'll be fine."

Tom turned his attention to Rodulph Lestrange and asked, "How much can I hurt him?"

Rodulph clapped his hands twice and asserted with the most evil, widest smile Tom had yet seen on the boy, "Short of death? Do your worst. I want him, his name, his fame, and his glory to crumble before him. I want him to leave this school on his own. I want him to go back to that little cottage he calls home in Godric's Hollow and rue the day that blabbermouth came to this school."

Just before Tom looked back to the rest of their group, he swore he saw Apollo give a reassuring look to Rodulph but let the moment pass and inquired, "So, how long has this been going on? This plan?"

Ruphina says, "Before the holidays. But when you imploded your friendship with Piper, it became easier. Even more so when I put Redvers on their tail."

Tom was gaining respect for this Hufflepuff girl, thinking to himself that maybe that incident with her wand at the Sorting gave her newfound guts and maybe the hat got her wrong. Tom nodded to her and said, "Okay. As much as I dislike being this late to a plan, you've done well."

Charlotte slapped him on the back as she wordlessly vanished the map floating in mid air and joked, "You're not the only smart kid here, Tommy boy. Now, do you want some practice or do you think you can keep Tarquin occupied until Ro-doofus and the rest of the school gets there?"

Tom looked around the room until he stopped to gaze at Charlotte and said, "I've been waiting for this all year. For preaching peaceful spell use, this school has a surprising number of books on curses and other dark magic. I'll be fine. Tarquin may be getting his confidence back, but by the time he gets to the Grand Staircase, his wand will betray him the moment I begin."

Artemis and Apollo sarcastically clapped as they walked towards the exit. Taking their lead, everyone else said their goodbyes and left in 3 minute intervals until the only ones left were Tom and Charlotte, who had resumed her spot with her book while Tom picked up his things. Right as Tom was about to leave as well, Charlotte yelled to him, "You're pretty good, Tommy boy. When you learn to cast non-verbally, we'll duel and see who's the better. I thought my little first year girl was next in line, but maybe it's you."

Tom paused at the door and replied, "I'm guessing you mean Tula?"

Charlotte smiled and teased while shooing him away, "Of course you know her. Perfect."

Tom genuinely smiled at the thought of him and Tula being the best students at Hogwarts as he walked out the door and made his way back down to the dungeons to make the final edits to the essay on wormwood that was due the next day. Making sure to add another inch for flare and extra credit on its use in the Euphoria Potion, Tom rolled up the parchment, put it in his bag, and hopped into bed where he fell asleep and began having a new dream.

This one didn't begin outside the wizard couples house, nor did it begin inside the nursery. This one began as his body, the one who he was seeing through in the dream, slowly climbed a tall grassy hill towards a manor at the top. He could feel the person's heavy footfalls, feel their steady but straining breaths. He could feel the slight wind as it rolled across the hill and its tall grass brushed against his pants.

When the body's head turned to look back down, Tom saw a quaint village and a young man's voice came from the body and said, "How pitiful. Even for muggles." The voice felt familiar to Tom but he couldn't pin it down. The man continued to hike up the hill until he was finally in the large courtyard of the manor, which had 3 cars Tom had never seen before parked in the rounded section of flatted gravel in front of the manor's front steps. The man walked around the manor, caressing the structure's fine old brick until he came to a side door and tried it. It was locked so the man sighed and turned back toward the main entrance.

As he got around to the front, a young man was walking with a slight limp from the other side towards the unknown cars with a towel over his shoulder. With a welcoming smile, he beckoned Tom's dream body over. The body obliged as he came closer with a short black wand extended that Tom didn't recognize and softly cast, "Imperio."

The other man stopped with his hand still extended as his eyes rolled around in his head until Tom commanded, "Go back to your home, muggle. You may live, for today."

The other man shook his head back and forth a couple times and then nodded in agreement with Tom and assented, "Yeah. I think I'm going to go home," and dropped his towel as he began descending the hill behind Tom. Tom put the unknown black wand back inside his trousers, which were a frayed charcoal color and looser fitting. When the hand put the wand back, Tom took a mental note that this hand was far younger and healthier than the one in the dream from the train.

When Tom got to the front entrance, he once again pulled out the black wand. He lazily waved and there was an audible click as the lock disengaged and Tom pushed it open. As he walked inside, Tom looked around and with a laugh that made the real Tom uneasy, and jested, "So, the village lives in squalor while the family on the hill prospers. Fantastic, father."

Tom walked around the first level with his hands in his trousers as he looked around inside the kitchen, which was spacious and housed many cabinets of fine china, the dining room, which had many paintings of men in muggle military uniforms, and 2 small bedrooms that were largely empty save for beds that looked barely touched and drawers he found to be empty. When he exited the last bedroom, he heard movement on the stairs and he waved to the two men descending and feigned a wide smile. The older of the two men, who looked nearly identical save for obvious age differences, squinted his eyes and questioned, "May I help you? We didn't have any visitors planned for today. Did Frank invite you in?"

Tom continued to smile and said, "Yes, Frank invited me in when I told him who I am. He's going back down to his cottage now to get some tea. Which one of you is Thomas?"

The younger man, who had been cautiously descending, looked back up to his father before hesitantly saying, "I am. I'm Thomas. May I help you? I'm afraid we are quite busy. What is your name? You seem… familiar somehow."

Tom's voice lowered as he answered, "I should hope so. Shall we go to your drawing room? We have much to discuss."

Both Thomas and his father descended and followed Tom as he led them, in their own house, to the drawing room just off the dining room. Tom heard them muttering but his body didn't turn around to address them. When he entered, Tom flicked his wand and conjured 3 glasses and a pitcher filled with a dark red wine. The two men walked in to see him holding the glasses out for them and the younger one began after taking his, "Okay. Who are you and why do you know my name?"

Tom leaned back on the table and with a swirl and sip of his own goblet of wine, he turned his gaze to Thomas as he handed the older a goblet and asked, "There is a family down the hill. Did you know a woman named Merope?"

The two men exchanged confused glances and the younger growled, "You mean that psycho with the weird eyes? Yeah I nearly…"

Tom held up a finger and Thomas stopped talking immediately and Tom cautioned, "Insult her again and I make this painful. Now… When you abandoned her, how far along into her pregnancy was she?"

Now the older man looked at Thomas with a mix of confusion and disgust as Thomas looked infuriated and barked, "That mott kept me against my will. I don't know how she…"

Tom's anger momentarily peaked and both Thomas and his father's glasses shattered in their hands. Tom returned to his previous facade after a deep breath, repaired and cleaned the area with a single wave of his wand, and sighed, "My apologies. I warned you. I won't do so again. I would not like to leave evidence of my being here. Misstep again and I will be forced to leave a very noticeable trace. I have one last question… Di…."

Thomas's father exclaimed, "You'll not talk to my boy that way. We will not be…"

Tom flicked his wand and the man grabbed his chest and gasped as he struggled to get air. Tom coolly began again, "I was still talking, filthy muggle." He looked back to Thomas and asked, "Did you ever, since your return to this manor, receive a letter from Wool's Orphanage in London?"

Thomas, who was roughly patting his father's back before Tom released the spell and the father took a deep, exacerbated breath, answered once his father stood back up, "I…. I don't know of any letter. When I left that… When I left Merope, I came back here and didn't think of her again. That is the truth. Why would I have received a letter from an orphanage?"

Tom set his goblet down on the table and wiped his hands on one of the napkins and concluded, "That is all I need."

With two quick flashes, and a calm hate he had never experienced, Tom cast, "Avada Kedavra." Both men crumbled to the ground as a green light enveloped the room and reflected off the windows and glassware. Inside his mind, Tom tried his hardest to scream but nothing came forth as the man he was inhabiting looked down at the black wand and snarled, "How pitiful. A wonder we're related." He put the wand back in his trousers and stepped over both men's corpses and began to walk out of the house.

Just before opening the front door, the man stopped short in front of a gold-rimmed mirror and Tom saw the most horrifying sight he had ever seen. The face itself was not frightening. The man was young and handsome with a neat, slicked comb over and sharp features. The man's eyes were dark green but with what must have been a trick of the light, flashed red for just a moment as the man flattened his hair. Inside his mind, Tom screamed in horror as he saw his own, slightly older face reflected in the mirror and he finally woke up.


	12. Paradox or Plunge?

Tom woke up drenched in sweat, his heart thumping like the hooves of a racehorse, and screaming, "NOOOOO!" He quickly pulled aside the curtains to his bed and ran over to the mirror Rodulph kept by his bed. Pulling it up to show his own face, Tom gazed into his own dark green eyes, waiting to see if they flashed red like the man in his dream. The man… No… He wasn't a man. He was too young. He was… He was Tom. Tom saw an older version of himself kill two people, with the Killing Curse. He saw… He saw himself kill his own father and grandfather. He saw his father for the first time. And he killed him. And his voice. It was slightly deeper than it was now and there was an emotionless, evil quality to it that irked him. This… version of him could not have been much older than he was now.

One thought continued to penetrate his mind: was this his future? Was he going to continue to see a future version of himself kill innocents? Tom continued to shake and sweat as Rodulph Lestrange pulled aside his curtains to see Tom staring into his mirror. Groggily, Rodulph said, "Are you done or do I need to curse your mouth shut, Riddle?" Tom looked at him and Rodulph actually sat up in surprise as he saw the abject fear on Tom's face. He continued, "Okay. Is this about the plan? Did you find a hole in it or something? If it's enough for you to scream about it, out with it."

Tom shook his head and crawled back into bed and said shakily, "No… ahem… It was nothing. Just… Bad dream…"

Rodulph scoffed and pulled back his curtains and said, "Whatever. If you pull out, I'll have two people to curse. The more the merrier."

Tom sat in his bed for a long time as a never ending torrent of painful thoughts hit his brain like a hurricane. Still foreign. Still unknown. He couldn't unsee the green light. The looks on their faces as he stepped over their bodies. The flash of red in his eyes. That flash of red hurt Tom the most, for some reason. He couldn't wrap his head around it but whenever it invaded his thoughts, his heart sank. Of all the evil he had seen on the streets of London, and of what he knew he had felt inside himself, he had never seen something more unsettling.

All through class that day, and well into the night, Tom was on edge. Every time he went to the restroom, he avoided the mirror. Whenever a teacher or fellow student tried to meet his eyes, Tom immediately looked away for fear they might see that same red glint and see him for what he thought he was becoming. Maybe Piper was right. If he continued to harm others, he might inadvertently bring about this future he was seeing in his mind. He knew he had to hide this all from Dumbledore. It was a mistake to tell Albus about his nightmare on the Hogwarts Express and even if Albus offered to help him understand, he didn't know if he could take the knowing look in the man's electric blue eyes. They pierced him to his core and even when Albus was being reassuring, with his hand on Tom's shoulder, Tom always felt like he was being watched.

The fear that crept into Tom's mind when he woke on Thursday, not even knowing he fell asleep the previous night, was the fear of feeling nothing the next time he did something horrible. Would he even know it was too late? Would he stop having the nightmares then? If this was the case, did he want them to stop? What kind of person would he have to be to still feel what he is feeling but not see the nightmares?

Tom's thoughts continued to spiral all day until Rodulph confronted him as he was going to Transfiguration and said, "So, how's the deception coming? Have you been able to make his wand distrust him yet?" Tom's thought had been so consumed in his own insecurities regarding the nightmares that he didn't even remember his part of the plan. Sensing something was off, he pulled Tom's face up to meet his gaze and continued, "Are you still on about that dream you had? What could possibly have scared someone like you so bad? We all thought you were cold-blooded. It's why my gang agreed to let you in."

Tom tried to yank his face away but Rodulph reacted by changing his grip to squeeze Tom's face and hissed, "And why were you gazing at my mirror afterward? What did you think you saw? Why won't you look me in the eye, Riddle?"

Tom pulled out his wand and shook his head away as he cast, "Ventus!" The force of the wind launched Rodulph off his feet into a wall. Wincing from the pain, Rodulph tried and failed to protect his face from the focused gale until Tom dispelled it and said, "I'll do it, okay? I'll do it today. I'm fine. We're going through with it."

Rodulph angrily flattened down his hair and straightened his robe before saying as he walked off, "You better. I meant what I said. If I have to come after you too, I'll do it. It will be certifiable, but I'll find a way."

Tom followed a ways back as they went to Transfiguration where they were learning the basics behind object to object transformations. When it came time for group practice, Tom nearly forgot his part again but Rodulph dragged him over to a table behind Tarquin and Piper's group. Tom positioned himself to face Tarquin's back and closed his eyes to focus his mind. He had to get the green light, his father's dead face, and the red glint out of his mind.

When it came time for Tarquin to practice the incantation and casting of Adsellam Verto, Tom, his wand hidden under the table, cast under his breath, "Finite," the moment Tarquin said the words. Nothing happened and Tarquin cocked his head and looked down at his wand and tried again. Tom did the same thing and now Tarquin was agitated.

The group moved on and Piper did the spell without any problems and when it came back to Tarquin, instead of making nothing happen, Tom instead cast, "Transadacus Verto," and the table instead became a needle that dropped to the floor. Tarquin threw his wand down and as soon as it hit the floor near the needle, a jet of red sparks flew out of his wand and lit another group's table on fire. Dumbledore came over to them and with a swift, wordless wave of his wand turned the needle back into a table and extinguished the small flame. He turned to Tarquin and said, "Respect for one's wand is paramount to success, young Mr. D'auferio. What seems to be the issue? While we are learning to transform a table into a chair, I am impressed you could so easily turn it instead into a needle. That is difficult magic, the compression alone is hard to even wrap the mind around. Bravo!"

Tarquin looked up angrily at Professor Dumbledore and grunted, "I wasn't trying to turn it into a needle, Professor. I said the incantation the same as everyone else. First it doesn't do a thing, now it's casting the wrong spells and lighting things on fire. Somethings wrong with the wand, professor. I knew Ollivander was wrong."

Piper patted him on the back and said, "Come on Tarq', we got through this already. Give it another shot."

Of course he has a blasted nickname, Tom thought to himself. He wasn't worried about hurting Tarquin anymore. His mind quickly shifted gears to cause the most damage and when Tarquin picked up his wand Tom knew exactly what to do. He'd have to be careful, because Albus's sharp eyes were now focused on the situation. If he was even a second too early or late, Albus would know it was Tom. He gripped his wand tight and with a sly wink to Rodulph, who smiled in response as he waited with bated breath, Tom readied himself.

The moment Tarquin completed his incantation of turning the desk into a chair, and it was just beginning its transformation, Tom whispered, "Expulso," and the desk exploded with a flash of blue light. Albus was quick on the take and immediately contained the explosion in an invisible bubble, which he levitated into the air and waved his wand again to turn it into a soap bubble which gave a faint pop when it drifted into the ceiling. Tom waited for Albus to look at him but the man's eyes were fixated on Tarquin's eyes with a look Tom knew to be the presumably billions of gears turning in the professor's head. The room was silent as they all waited for his verdict and Albus finally spoke, "That's one temperamental wand. Would you like me to call Mr. Ollivander here to examine it? You say this wand chose you in his shop, correct? What is its make?"

Tarquin sat down on the bench chair behind him and threw the wand hard onto the repaired table and grunted, "A dipping Thestral Heartstring and English Oak." A gasp echoed through the room and Tom looked to Rodulph who was still transfixed with glee at Tarquin's plight.

Dumbledore picked it up and examined it closely as he said just audible, "Intriguing. So, shall I call Ollivander here, Mr. D'auferio? I am not an expert in wandlore but even I can sense the waning trust you and your wand have for each other. Which is dangerous for both of you."

Tarquin crossed his arms after ruffling his hair and sighed, "Whatever. I'm tired of that wand. Tell him to bring replacements that will work and destroy that one."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed as he raised an eyebrow and stated, "Hold on to it until he gets here on the morrow. Work on bonding with it first. You cannot expect a wand whose trust is the hardest to gain to provide the results you think you deserve. Mine didn't cast a single spell until halfway through my first year here. Give it time and that wand will serve you better than any other." As Dumbledore held the wand back out to Tarquin, the latter looked at it for half a minute before snatching it back and putting it back in his bag. Raising his voice as he looked to the rest of the class, who had been watching from the beginning, Dumbledore asserted, "I believe that will do for today. I expect your essays on the theory behind transformations from one type of matter to another to be no less than 20 inches. Bonus house points to the student who can best describe each known force in detail."

Everyone picked up their things as Dumbledore waved his wand around and moved all of the tables and chairs back into their neat stacks against the wall and pulled the curtains back up to let the sunlight back into the room. Avoiding the possibility of being cornered by Albus, Tom was the first to leave the room. He enjoyed toying with Tarquin more than he expected and it was just what he needed to get him back into the plan to run the boy out of the school. Having been ahead in every subject for the past month, Tom spent all of Herbology looking at a book of curses instead of following along as Einswald read them passages on growth rates and food necessary to keep Venomous Tentacula from becoming parasitic in an open growth setting. A few piqued his interest and others, like the Blasting Curse, would be too far. Tom also spent the class playing the event out in his mind, going over the rough dimensions and movements of the stairs and how they would interact with The Orphaned Step.

Class finally ended and as everyone else went to the Great hHall or the study rooms on the fourth floor, Tom nodded to Rodulph before leaving and making his way to the Grand Staircase. Once he got there, he practiced both his mind and footwork as he made his way up and down the moving stairs. 5th to Dungeon. 3rd to 7th. 1st to 6th. Round and round he went until it was finally time. As he was passing by the 4th floor on a stair he knew to be on its way to the 1st floor, he saw Tarquin with his arm against the wall while he flirted with Ruphina Datchery, whose deception amazed even Tom. Her eyelashes fluttered and she laughed at the right moment as he finished each poor excuse for a joke.

Tom landed on the first floor and waited for them to get on one of the staircases before making his first move. As he began his own route on the staircases to begin his part of the plan, he cast, "Obscuro," and he could hear Ruphina giggle as she straightened the new blindfold over Tarquin's eyes and told him it was alright because she was going to show him a secret place. Tarquin hesitantly laughed too as Tom wordlessly guided Ruphina along a route that would put them both on The Orphaned Step and give her enough time to jump away as it floated upward. Tom patiently moved from stair to stair until he jumped to one that would circle around The Orphaned Step before descending to meet the 3rd floor. Tom dispelled the blindfold with a firm, "Finite," and smiled wide as he saw Tarquin look up to meet his glare.

This is the moment, Tom thought to himself as he continued to circle around Tarquin. This will get you Piper back and make sure Tarquin never has the chance to take them away again. Tarquin glared back at Tom as he pulled his wand out of his trousers, ready at his side, as he snarled, "Alright, Riddle. Nice trick with the Hufflepuff bitch. What do you want? If this is about Piper…"

Tom cast, "Langlock," and Tarquin nearly choked as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Tom laughed cooly and said, "Nope. No more about them from you. You don't deserve them. I don't care how much they helped you as a neighbor. But to take them away from me? You took my one friend. That was your first mistake. Then you harassed muggle-borns, shamed a Ravenclaw girl for spurning your hideous advances, and hurt an innocent Slytherin boy."

Tarquin fought off the jinx and when he finally dispelled it, he retorted, "So, this is about them? You wanna to be their knight, Riddle? How's that moral high ground feel after nearly killing your, as you said, only friend?

Tom's anger boiled over and he raised his wand as he said, "You baited me, you feckless swine! I hurt them and now you're going to pay for it. Locomotor Wibbly!"

Tarquin ducked and dodged the spell and while still crouching fired back, "Reducto," at the staircase Tom was on. The edge just in front of Tom's shoes disintegrated. A few jagged fragments cut through Tom's pants and lodged into his calves. He grimaced as he jumped to another staircase that was rising from below.

When Tom regained his footing and saw Tarquin following the paths of a few staircases to jump to, Tom bellowed, "Colloshoo!" Right when Tarquin was about to jump, both of his feet stuck to the ground and he nearly fell off. Tarquin tried and failed twice to dispel the hex as he waited for their staircases to come closer. Tom reveled in his apparent success in Transfiguration.

Tom jumped from stair to stair before landing on the 7th floor and Tarquin, still stuck in place, cast just when an opening between two different staircases appeared, "Tarantallegra." Tom didn't react in time to block it and his legs began an erratic jig that almost sent him over the edge twice before he was able to focus his wand hand and dispelled it. In that time, Tarquin finally yelled his counter-spell and jumped on a stair that Tom knew was going down to the third floor. Tom jumped onto the next stair he thought would pass by Tarquin and as he landed, he heard the heavy footfalls of what must have been at least a hundred students crowding the entrance to every corridor along the Grand Staircase. At the lead of the group assembling on the 3rd floor was Rodulph Lestrange holding a large green bag filled with what he could barely see poking out were brownish spheres.

Rodulph smiled as he saw Tarquin frantically jumping from stair to stair, trying and failing to find a way to one of the corridors. Tom rode one of his own up until he came up behind Tarquin and yelled, "This is for everyone, Tarquin. You don't belong here. You chose to hurt everyone else and now your bell tolls." He looked to Rodulph and bellowed, "Let him have it!" Rodulph opened the bag and brown spheres tumbled out as he picked one up and chucked it right at Tarquins chest. Tarquin recoiled and Tom caught a whiff of a horrible urine and feces smell as from every corridor of the Grand Staircase people began pelting both Tarquin and the staircase he was on with dozens of Dungbombs. Ruphina, who was now in front of a group of Hufflepuff girls and boys, uses her wand to lob one up from the 2nd floor and it splatted right on Tarquins cheek.

Tarquin tried in vain to cast them away or crouch to dodge them as dozens more zoomed his way over the next few minutes. Tom himself used magic to catch ones that fell short or went too far and enchanted them to fly right back at him. It wasn't until Tom saw Tarquin crying, back on the Orphan Step, and hiding his face with his arms that he finally yelled, "Enough!

The other students complied and the previously echoing tower fell silent as Tom's staircase floated up to revolve around Tarquin's. He stepped off his own and onto the slippery, feces covered Orphan Step Tarquin was covered from head to toe in brown and yellow slop that was still falling off of him and onto the staircase. Tom looked down at him, felt his anger begin to settle and held his wand out as he threatened, "Are you done, Tarquin? Have you learned your lesson?"

Tarquin roughly coughed in between sobs and choked out, "Piper… aaah… Piper will never forgive you now. They were always hesitant…" He coughed out a thick piece of Dungbomb before continuing, "They knew you were cruel. When you proved them right in Slughorn's class, they cried so hard. Every day, I had to coax them to go to class. When you saw us together, I was only trying to help them forgive you. Of all things, I tried to help. I know I'm not a good person, but to see you stoop this low will kill them more than them finding out about my bullshit. They already know I'm a bad seed. Now they know you are too."

Tom's anger didn't come like he thought it would. Instead, a pit formed under his heart and dropped it hard into his stomach. He was right. Tarquin was right. When Piper found out about this, they would never speak again. It didn't matter how much Tom begged, they wouldn't come back. He put them right back in Tarquin's arms. Tom looked up to Rodulph as his staircase continued to circle down to the third floor and said, "We're done. He's had enough. I'm done. You and I… We're done."

Rodulph's face twitched with an anger Tom knew too well and he snapped, "We're done when I say so, Mudblood! Flippendo!"

Tom watched, as if time itself had slowed, as a blue and yellow light erupted from Rodulph's wand and right when Tom braced himself to take the jinx in the chest, Tarquin dived forward and took it instead. The spell struck Tarquin in the abdomen and sent him flying over the edge of the Orphan Step just as a new voice, from the bottom floor of the Grand Staircase, yelled right when the spell hit Tarquin, "TOM! NO!"

The perception of slowed time continued as Tom looked down and to his horror, he saw Piper's scarred face crying and pointing beneath him. Tom followed their finger to see Tarquin as he hit his head on a passing staircase as he plunged down the tower. Tom, his eyes wide with both fear and determination, thrust his wand out over the edge as he dropped to his stomach and wordlessly, magically caught Tarquin in midair just before he would have hit another staircase two floors down. Tarquin's unconscious body slowly floated up to Tom as he concentrated and set him down on his staircase.

Tarquin's skull was caved in and blood continued to flood out of it and onto the stone steps. Tom took off his robes and desperately tried to cover the wound as he yelled, "Episkey!" over and over to no avail. Tarquin was seizing violently as his blood continued to poor out and cover Tom's robes. Tom felt tears flow down his face as he panicked and looked around at all the students, speechlessly begging them to just move and help him. But they didn't. Not one escaped their paralysis. Tom was alone on the staircase as both his and Piper's loud lament echoed through the tower. His eyes closed, desperate for a way out, he remembered his last option. The only option.

As if pulled by the strings of a puppeteer, Tom let go of Tarquin's now limp head and neck and stood with his wand pointed right at the boy's face. The incantation thrust into his mind as he concentrated on the thought of saving Tarquin and roared with all his might in a language he had never heard, "Dumue Alhaya!"

A powerful flame, the same colors as the plumes of a phoenix, exploded out of Tom's Willow wand and engulfed Tarquin's entire body. The light from the spell illuminated the entire tower and many in the tower screamed in terror at the sight of the flame. Piper's howling sobs penetrated through them all as everyone was transfixed in horror. Rodulph turned away from it, hiding his face in the chest of Apollo Woode. Even Tom was afraid as he held onto the spell as long as he could before he finally lost control of it and dropped his wand and it plummeted down the tower. Tom was overcome by faintness and the last thing he saw before collapsing in exhaustion onto the stairs was Tarquin's healed face, the blood and gore gone. His head newly formed with a strip of bald skin right where his head broke against the stairs.


	13. Maladroit/Mail

Chapter 12: Maladroit/Mail

"...and so the object is transmuted from wood to metal. The materials themselves must either constrict or expand for both the density of the material and its size. For example, with the spell Vera Verto, matter must be transformed, compressed, and lose its spark of life as the living object is turned into a goblet. Wow… Even for you Tom, that's morbid." This male voice, a voice he had never heard before, droned on and on as Tom slowly gained consciousness. When he finally felt the strength to open his eyes a squint, he blurrily saw a middle aged man with a gigantic handlebar mustache and a vastly receded hairline sitting at the edge of his bed. He was reading from a long piece of parchment through a lowered pair of wire rimmed, rectangular spectacles. Tom tried to ask who they were but all that came out was a low moan.

Tom didn't feel any pain but his entire body felt like an ox was sitting on him. On every part of him. Like the gravity of the bed itself was working only on him and not his apparent visitor. Tom groaned again and this time the mustachioed man noticed, rolled up the parchment, and slapped one of Tom's feet. Tom was glad to actually feel something beyond the heaviness of his body as the man stroked his mustache and gruffly said, "Tom, my boy. We were most worried for your recovery. This…" The man held up the parchment, slapped his foot again, and continued, "This is quite good. Too bad you never finished it."

Tom tried to raise his head but his body still felt too weak so instead he smacked his dried mouth and lips and said weakly, "Tar… Tarquin… Where's Tarquin? The du… The du… He…"

The man's smile was almost as wide as his obnoxious mustache and his head jerked to Tom's right and the boy used every bit of what little strength he had to follow their eyes to the bed next to his. Tarquin Alexander D'auferio the 4th was lying asleep in the bed next to his and a relief Tom didn't expect flooded through him with warmth. His heart calmed a little as he looked back at the man on his bed and asked, "How'd we… Is he alright? His head… I don't remem…"

The man continued to smile as he scootched a little forward and said, "You scared everyone shitless with that fire, Tom. We thought you'd killed him but you…"

Right before he stood up, the doors to the Hospital Wing burst open and a furious Madame Hogbin stomped inside as she yelled, "Piper Andriette Nobel, this is the last straw. I catch you coming in here outside visiting hours again and I will make you one of my patients, understand?"

The man winked at Tom as their face and body morphed back into that of a sans-scarred Piper Nobel and they stood and saluted the Head Nurse as they said, "Patient is finally awake. Patient is arrogant and responds positively to hearing his own work and being complimented, ma'am."

Madame Hogbin picked up the parchment Piper was reading from, which Tom was slowly remembering was his own from before his duel with Tarquin, and bat Piper's shoulder with it three times before using it to point at them and said, "Nor are you one of my assistants. Now, get out. I will attend to Mr. Riddle."

Piper winked at Tom again and said before leaving the Hospital Wing with a note of seriousness, "We're not done. I'm going to hex you right back into that bed when you get out." Tom's heart sunk to the floor as he knew that their conversation would be both painful and necessary.

Madame Hogbin took Piper's place on his bed as they rolled out his paper and Tom found he had the strength to sit up and said, "How is Tarquin and may I have some water?"

Madame Hogbin was deep into reading his paper but flicked her wand and a glass appeared on his bedside table. She said with a note of surprise, "She's right. This is good. It is too bad you didn't finish."

Tom took a few big gulps and the glass refilled itself as he asked between smaller sips, "How long have we been out? How is he, Madame Hogbin? He hit his head pretty hard."

Madame Hogbin rolled the parchment back up and set it down as she stood up and said turning their attention to Tarquin, "I don't know what you did, kid, but he should be dead. From what Dumbledore and the other students who saw it happen said, his brains were all over the Grand Staircase until you literally burned him back to life. Codswallop, I said. But Dumbledore insisted and I'll admit to my jealousy. An 11 year old did something with one spell that takes me weeks of potions and careful spellwork. It's preposterous. What did you do, Riddle?"

Tom racked his brain as he tried to remember but all he could muster was a bright red fire cascading out of his wand and a phrase he didn't even know the meaning of. Nor whatever language it was. He had never heard it before but it felt like he had always known it, even that day in Ollivander's. Tom looked up to Hogbin and said, "I… I don't know. I don't even know how I knew the incantation. I cast it once before but that was only when I first grabbed my wand at Ollivanders. If… If I brought him back… why is he still asleep? Why is he still here."

Hogbin sighed as they got up and looked at Tarquin and said, "Excellent question. I felt it best to keep you both under for a little bit. You both sustained a lot of damage and the pain you would have felt if I let you up too early likely would have killed you. That being said, I expected you both to be down for a month, but it's only been two weeks. Tar…"

Tom bolted upright in his bed and interrupted, half-shouting, "TWO WEEKS? What do you mean, two weeks?"

Hogbin smiled and patted Tom's leg and said, "Tarquin woke a couple days ago but he has been in and out since. You on the other hand… That flame you cast… It very nearly sapped you of everything you had left. Both Dum…"

Before she could finish, Professor Albus Dumbledore opened the door and smiled wide at Madame Hogbin as he said, "I do apologize, Helena. I do not mean to impose nor usurp your hallowed authority in this room, but I would like to speak with Tom alone for a moment. If you would, please."

Albus's tone was one Tom knew well. The wise old man wasn't asking and Hogbin must have known too because she set Tom's unfinished essay on his side table, checked Tarquin's temperature with the back of her hand, and left without a word. Albus flicked his wand wordlessly and conjured a comfortable wicker chair with a plush maroon pillow in the seat and sat down gently without leaving Tom's gaze. He sighed as he turned to look at Tarquin before returning to pierce Tom with his electric blue eyes, just over a pair of half-moon spectacles Tom had not seen him wear before. After nearly a minute of silence, Tom got only one syllable out before Albus cut in and said, "Do remember our arrangement before you agreed to come to Hogwarts?"

Tom wanted desperately to avert his gaze but something in Albus's eyes kept him locked there. It was almost painful to see something so beautiful yet fierce and Tom stammered out his answer, "Y… Yes, sir."

Albus responded without changing tone, "Oh, am I now worthy of your respect, Tom? Am I now a professor to you and not just Albus?" Tom's heart began to race as he tried again and again to find something to say but nothing came. Albus, sensing this, smiled a little and clarified, "That is a joke. I know your respect is not one to be earned so easily. You may still call me Albus when we are alone, seeing as you have kept your end and called me either professor or sir during class. Now, what is it that we agreed upon, Tom?"

Tom blinked furiously, trying to find any respite from Albus's eyes as he again stammered, "I… I… You told me that curses used on innocents, like I did to Billy back then, could lead to my expulsion from the school. But Tarquin…"

Albus's smile faded as he said, "I see. At the same point of argument. No. Tarquin D'auferio is and was not innocent. Far from it." Albus paused for a moment to sigh before resuming, "I have one question for you Tom, and I will know if you tell the truth. As I always have. Including your tricks against him in my class the day of this unfortunate incident." Tom's heart was uncontrollable as he did everything he could to get up and just run out of the school. But no part of his body moved by his command. He was stuck. Just like Billy was that day. Tom knew it wasn't a spell or hex. Albus's gaze was just that unsettling in this moment and it froze him. Albus lowered his head a little to see Tom over his glasses and asked, "Do you think Tarquin deserved to die?"

It was the hardest question Tom had been posited but his answer came immediately, instinctually, "No."

Albus's smile returned, a little wider than before, as he leaned forward and tapped Tom twice on the right shoulder and said, "Exactly." Albus leaned back in his chair a little as he resumed, "Why did you save him, Tom? You did not kill him. But you also enabled his death by proxy. So, why?"

Tom looked over to Tarquin as he replied, "He deserved to live. I have known the same humiliation he did. The same sapping of will. When I saw him just… kneeling there… as everyone, including me, treated him with hatred… It hurt. I've never felt that before. And it carried over to after Ro…"

Albus finished the sentence for him, "After Rodulph cast a knockback jinx at you and Tarquin likely saved your life in exchange for his own."

Tom, taken aback by Albus's knowledge of the event, paused for a second before nodding and continuing, "I… I still can't get the sound of his head hitting the staircase out of my head. And the blood. His head…"

Albus nodded as well and stated, "It is a sight no child should see. Please continue."

Tom looked to his side table and fixated on his Willow and Phoenix Feather wand as he continued, "My body just acted. I don't even know the spell I cast. I just knew I wanted to use the same one as in Ollivander's."

Albus's smile grew wider as he repeated the incantation, "Dumue Alhaya."

Again, Tom racks his brain to puzzle out how Albus knew the incantation and he asked, "Albus, do you know the spell? How did you know it was the one I cast?"

Albus answered after a moment of visible contemplation, "I do not and I did not until I saw it for myself in the memories of another. Many others; it took an effort to procure. I only know that it has Arabic origins. I assume you have never known Arabic, Tom?" When Tom shook his head, Albus continued, "Interesting. To cast a spell without meaning to, even for one's own benefit, is one thing. You showed just that with your casting of the Summoning Spell on Tarquin before his plunge to the bottom of the Grand Staircase. However, to use an unknown incantation to cast an as yet unknown spell… that is something entirely new. And a spell I don't believe has ever been cast? Even more interesting. Do you know the meaning of the spell's incantation, Tom?"

Tom shook his head again but said, "I assume it has something to do with a Phoenix, since my wand has a feather of one inside it. And Ollivander commented on it being interesting how that spell was my first with a wand."

Albus nodded in agreement and said, "Unless my Arabic is as abysmal as my Gobbledygook, I believe it means 'tears of life'. When you first cast this spell, I assumed it, like many others including my own when I first received a wand, was a simply linked effect tied to the core I provided. But that has proved to not be the case. I assume you know the powers of a phoenix, given the books you bought from Flourish and Blotts?"

Tom nodded and replied, "They have a dual life and rebirth cycle that begins and ends with fire and ash. They also have tears with…" Tom just then got it. Tears of Life. The spell he cast must have used the…

Albus interrupted his thought as he completed it for him, "It is good to see your sacrifice has not addled your mind. Yes, the tears of a phoenix have been known to cure both magical and non-magical wounds. The sting of a manticore's tail, the initial bite of a werewolf. And… I assume in this case… The broken head of a broken boy."

Tom looked to Tarquin again as he said, "Will he be alright? If I fixed him, if my spell healed his head, why can't he remain awake?"

Albus closed his eyes for a while before replying, "You did indeed heal his head Tom. You… and your wand… performed a miracle. Tarquin may well have already been on his way to The Veil when you cast the spell and being thrust back into his body has left a damage not even I fully understand. While you suffered immense mental and physical damage from the casting of the spell, I, and this is only an educated guess, assume Tarquin suffered damage to his soul. He may not have wanted to come back."

Tom blurted out, "Why wouldn't he want to come back? Who wouldn't want to stop themselves from dying?"

Albus smiled faintly as he answered after a few moments, "Only those who are dead know what lies beyond. One can only hold onto life for so long before the meaning loses its luster, Tom. Just ask any of the Hogwarts ghosts, who chose to remain instead of passing through the Veil.

"One of my dearest friends has succeeded in postponing his own end for longer than I think even your brilliant mind can imagine. Tarquin on the other hand… I believe Tarquin perhaps wanted relief. A relief he indeed deserves. He did not wish for death. Simply accepted it when it came."

Albus rose from his chair and began to walk away before Tom called out, "Albus, what about my punishment? What about…"

Albus turned on the spot with a faint smile and said, "Ah, yes. Well… You and your cohort will have detention 3 times a week for the rest of term. I do believe the Grand Staircase has been in need of repairs and a proper cleaning for a long time now. You will do this. I am sure your knowledge of its patterns will come in handy. As for those that watched or participated in the unfair use of Dungbombs, 200 points have been deducted from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw House. 400 have been deducted from Slytherin, for you and your group masterminding the torture of a student."

Albus's smile became straight as an arrow as he ended, "Should you engage in the torture or unprovoked attacking of a student at my school again Tom, I will expel you and transport you to Azkaban myself."

With that, Albus turned and left the Hospital Wing without another word, holding the door open for a mere moment as Piper walked back in, expressionless. They looked at Tarquin for a while as they slowly came into the room and took a seat in the chair Albus left behind before shifting their gaze to Tom. Behind their mask, Tom could still see the pain he caused. He saw it all. Piper struggled to keep themselves composed as they muttered just loud enough for Tom to hear, "Why?"

Unlike the fear he felt with Albus, Tom simply couldn't look at Piper and see his actions illustrated on their face. Its creases like a map of his every misstep. Their dampening eyes like a reflecting pool, laying him bare. Their quivering mouth doing everything it could to not destroy him.

Piper's scar slowly creeped up and receded out from under their partially unbuttoned shirt collar as they raised their voice a little and demanded, "Look at me, Tom Riddle. Why?"

Tom slowly raised his eyes to meet theirs, letting in the pain it was already causing him. Tom started and stopped a few times before finally saying, "I thought he was taking you away. My only… My only friend. But he wasn't. I know that now. I pushed you first… I didn't just push. I threw you. I broke that vial out of vengeance. I didn't know it would hurt you so much, but the moment it happened I knew I couldn't take it back. When Rodulph told me about what he was doing to those girls and the other boy, I used it as a reason to hurt him. And he almost died because of it."

Piper looked at Tom, changing their focus from one eye back to the other, for what felt like an hour. Tom wondered if they too could see if he was lying, which he wasn't in this instance. He knew what he did to both them and Tarquin was wrong. He wasn't sure if he was sorry for it, but he knew not to do it again. Piper closed their eyes and the scar that was slowly creeping up their neck as they stared at him receded and vanished as they said, "We'll start with that. This changes things, Tom. I don't trust you. What you did wasn't just cruel. It was monstrous. I knew you had bad in you but I didn't think you were as vile as Rodulph and his gang. You… you became one of them to get back at me and you almost killed Tarquin… If you had… I don't even want to think about that."

Tom saw the pain in their mismatched eyes as tears finally broke their dam of a facade and flooded down their cheeks. They still didn't break eye contact and Tom instantly knew why they were in such pain as he said, "You love him."

Piper wiped their eyes and looked down before looking to Tarquin and said, "Yeah. I wish I didn't, Tom. I really do. I know what he's done. I saw it first hand with Ruphina and one of the boys in our class. He has the same cruelty in him that you do. And I want to hate him for it. I wanted to hurt him just like you did. But something in me loves him. I don't know if he loves me. He hasn't ever done the things he's done to others to me. That doesn't excuse him for it. But when my family was attacked… When I got this scar… He was the first one to kick in our door and Tom… You should have seen the magic he did. 6 years old and he conjured these burning chains that bound them all together until a group of Aurors came and cleaned everything up.

"I still remember the look on his face when he touched my scar after I got out of St. Mungos. For all of the demons he has, he has a kindness and a love I can't resist."

What Tom saw in Piper's face, the knowledge of one's flaws yet the ability to see past it to find love, was something he wondered if he would find too. He wanted it. Not just to have someone look at him like that. But for him to look at someone else and feel that too. Tom asked before he could stop himself, "It must really hurt, Piper."

Piper didn't take their eyes off Tarquin as they wiped their eyes and said, "Yeah. It does. It sucks." With a chuckle Piper continued, "I hate it. I'm too young to be barking over a boy, especially one as shit as him." They shook their head and raspberried for a second before gasping and looking to Tom with an excitement he didn't expect but instantly warmed him, "How in Merlin's loose ball skin did you cast that spell? What language even was that? We all thought you'd burned him alive but when you fainted next to him, we saw you had more damage than him. It was like the fall never happened."

Tom sat up a little more and said, "Albus is pretty sure it was Arabic. I don't know Arabic but something happened… I felt this warmth, like a bond with my wand, in that moment and the incantation just came out. I'd done it before when I first got it but I didn't use the words then. I think even Albus is confused."

Piper reached over and punched him harder than they probably meant to in the shoulder and japed, "Well, next time you're feeling up to it, can you fix my arse-ended face?" When Tom looked confused, Piper clarified, "I'm joking, Tom. If just one use of it knocked you into the next fortnight, I can't imagine what doing it again would do. I like the scar anyway. People ask too many questions, but it's a part of me. I get a cool eye out of it too," pointing to her sectoral, heterochromatic hazel and gunmetal blue eye.

Tom failed to repress a laugh and Piper giggled too. They both sat in silence for a while, Piper habitually rubbing the end of Tom's blanket with their thumb, Tom looking at Tarquin and wondering what it would be like to see the good side of the boy. What it would be like to love someone how Piper did. While he didn't particularly like Tarquin, he no longer hated him with the same passion as before. Piper broke their silence as they looked at Tom with a small smile and asked, "Think you can walk?"

Tom tried wiggling his toes and they barely budged but he said, "Might as well try. I've already missed half a month of class. I may be ahead of you all by a year, but those missing papers are going to tank my grade."

Piper chortled and said, "Yeah, that and you and Ro-doofus single handedly ensured Slytherin is out of the running for the House Cup. Gryffindor is going to win on a technicality. Albeit a warranted one since you nearly killed their prized possession."

Tom gave a pained laugh as he slowly swung his legs over and Piper offered him a hand. Tom looked up at Piper, wondering if they were ever going to be friends again and Piper answered for him as they lurched out at him and lifted him off the bed and into a hug. As they squeezed, Tom realized he was a few feet off the ground and every part of Piper was suddenly much larger. Their muscles were bursting out of their now ripping white school shirt. As they leaned back with a menacing grin, Piper said in a tone Tom couldn't tell was a joke or not, "Hurt me or Tarq again and I'll turn into a giant and swing you like a cricket bat against the walls of the school until you pop."

As they squeezed a little harder and their grin opened to show a set of obnoxiously sharp and discolored teeth, Tom gasped out a breath and nodded 3 times. Piper changed their face back and slowly transformed themselves back to normal and Tom felt the full weight of his body touch the ground. He stumbled for a moment, Piper helping to catch him, and shakily stood back up on his own. With their help, Tom got his bearings and strength back as he did a few slow laps of the Hospital Wing with Piper at his side.

When they finally brought him back to his bed, Piper said, "Oh, almost forgot. You got a letter from a really beautiful pygmy owl. It came a couple days after your duel. I didn't read it but it's from someone called Powall. Is this that lady you were talking to with Whitlocke? She was hot."

Tom unintentionally blushed as Piper took out and handed Tom a small envelope from their robes. It addressed to him in swirling, rounded handwriting Tom recognized as Claire Powall's, the editor of Charms weekly. Piper sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned for him to open and read it as they said, "Come on. I want to see your ego burst out of your head as she fawns over you like Whitlocke used to."

Tom smirked as he relented, tore the seal of the envelope, and read the letter aloud:

Dear Mr. Tom Riddle,

I hope your second term at Hogwarts is going as well as your first. It was pleasant to meet someone as talented, especially at such a young age. Corra, you know her as Professor Whitlocke, and I went to school together and I don't believe she could even cast the bird summoning spell until our third year and even then she was the head of our class. I can only imagine the progress your control and spells will make by the time you reach that age.

There is an upcoming event at Hogwarts at the end of the term that I have been asked to attend on behalf of the magazine. Are you still open to being interviewed? We have never had a student be the focus of a piece but when I told everyone about your Phoenix Starlings, they all agreed that a young perspective on the topic of charms would be a refreshing article indeed. If possible, we would also like to take a few pictures to show you use your magic. If you have any more flashy tricks up your sleeve, keep them ready for the magazine. I believe that with your talents, we will be the first of many to want a piece of Tom Riddle.

Give Corra hell for me. I look forward to your owl.

Claire Powall, O.M. (Second Class) and Editor-at-large for Challenges in Charms

When Tom finished, Piper snatched the letter from him and read it through a couple times before throwing it back down to the bed with a scoff. They folded their arms and said, "What a boring woman. She could have at least let a little more air in your head with some flowery language. Well, I guess we'll see her at the end of term. Which event do you think she means?"

Tom looked at the back to see there was nothing more and shrugged as he said, "No idea. All I know is that I am going to be swamped every day now. No more fooling around in the hideout."

Piper cocked their head and inquired, "Oh, and what makes you think you can go back?" The beginnings of fear struck Tom but it vanished as Piper saw his face and burst out an echoing laugh and said, "Only joking. I miss that place. And don't worry. Even if Tarquin and I date, which we won't for a while I promise you, that place will always be just ours." Tom's heart swelled a little and after taking another few laps around the Hospital Wing with their help, Piper left with a smile on their face that Tom genuinely returned. Mere minutes after returning to his bed, the last thing Tom saw before he fell asleep was Tarquin's eyes slowly open and a small smile across his face.


	14. Farewell and Fleshment

Chapter 13: Farewell and Fleshment

Tom woke the next day to find Tarquin's bed empty and dressed down. He spent the next 3 days slowly getting his strength back, largely thanks to a potion Madame Hogbin gave him to bring back the muscle mass he had lost while unconscious for two weeks. Confined to his bed when the nurse wasn't helping him walk around, Tom spent most of the time catching up on the reading he had missed in class as well as copying Piper's notes, of which he found they took quite few. Most of their parchment was covered in crude, but well detailed, illustrations of their transformation process. While enlightening, they were not the information he would need to pass his exams and so he resorted to staying up late to read his own books instead.

Just before being released from the hospital wing on Saturday, after proving to Hogbin he could walk laps around the Wing without a cane, Tom replied to Claire Powall:

Dear Ms. Claire Powall,

Thank you for writing so soon after our meeting. I was not expecting to hear from you until the end of term. I myself have been in the hospital wing for two weeks due to what Madame Hogbin continues to call 'magical exhaustion'. I'm not sure what that means, since I usually practice well into the night without being tired. I did however cast an incredible spell in an incident I will not discuss in the interview.

Because I come from the world of muggles, I am new to magic and don't know if I will have any wisdom or guidance to impart at all. However, I will do my best to answer what questions you do have and prepare a good spell for a photograph, which I assume will move like those the portraits of Hogwarts and those found in the Daily Prophet.

Thank you for taking an interest in me. I will do my best to live up to your expectations.

Cheers,

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Hogwarts Student

P.S. You are the first person I have ever written a letter to. Are titles and occupations always part of signature?

After rereading it a few times to make sure it was legible enough and didn't have any mistakes, Tom asked Madame Hogbin where he could send the letter from. She sat in her chair for a moment, almost dumbfounded, and smiled as she asked, "Who might you be sending a letter to, Riddle? Professor Dumbledore told me you didn't have any family."

Tom smiled in return, seeing her genuine confusion and doing his best to not take it as the insult he assumed it was, and replied, "At one of Slughorn's parties, I met an editor for the magazine, Challenges in Charms. We talked for a bit and when I showed her some of what I could do, she said she wanted to come back and interview me near the end of term, after my final exams. She was quite nice and I am sure I have as much to learn from her as she would ask of me."

Madame Hogbin smirked, seeing right through him, and retorted, "I am not a professor, Tom. There is no need to pander to me. However, if you'd like, I could take it up there for you. I need to go up there anyway to order more ingredients. You drank the last of my potions for muscular regeneration, I'm afraid."

Tom continued to smile and said, laying it on even thicker, "Thank you, Madame Hogbin, that would be great. I am sorry to have been a burden. Thank you for taking care of me. Your wondrous talents are the only reason for my quick recovery."

Madame Hogbin, lifting just her eyes from a piece of parchment she was writing a long list on, curtly says, "That's enough of that, Riddle. You may leave. Do make sure I don't see you for the rest of term or I will ensure you are under for much longer." Tom smirked and put his school clothes back on, put his wand back into his trousers, wishing he had another place to put it, and slowly walked out of the Hospital Wing.

The first, and most obvious, thing Tom noticed as he walked the path back down to the Slytherin Common Room was the students. Tom usually had to bob and weave his way through the crowds whenever he wanted to get somewhere. Now, however, they parted before him and it wasn't until he looked into their faces that he saw a mixture of fear and disgust that he connected the dots. Word had no doubt spread across the school of his duel with Tarquin. While he usually didn't care for, nor engage in, gossip, he wanted to know which version of the story was being told. Tom couldn't pick up on the whispers as he continued to make his way down but he found some hope for knowledge as he passed the Great Hall and saw Tula Wolfe sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table, deep into a huge tome Tom didn't recognize.

Tom slowly approached and sat down on the opposite bench from her, waiting to be noticed. When she didn't look up for half a minute, Tom whispered to her, "Hey, Tula. What are you reading?"

Tula didn't look up as she replied, "Please go, Riddle."

Tom felt a momentary stab in his chest and lightly shook his head and said, "I don't understand."

Tula gently closed the book with one of her hands still inside as she looked up and asked a little louder, "You don't understand why I don't want to talk to you?"

Tom leaned a little forward and implored, "Come on, didn't you see the spell I cast? I healed his head. No one else could have done that. Why is everyone walking around like I'm the one who almost killed him? Lestrange is…"

Tula's eyes pierced his as she interrupted, "Yes, but everyone already knew Rodulph and his gang were evil. Not you. What you did to him on that staircase was… It was horrible, Tom. Imagine if you hadn't cast whatever that spell was. As smart as you are, I would have thought you'd see a better path than torture and revenge. I thought I… I don't want to be around someone with that kind of attitude. Now, please go."

She kept her eyes locked onto his until Tom finally gave in and relented, "Fine. I'm… Have a good rest of term," and got up to leave. Unseen by Tom, Tula sighed as she looked at him leaving. Her face dropped a little as she returned to her book. As he made his way down the stairs to the dungeon, he still couldn't see why she hated him now. He thought she'd be excited and want to know more about the spell. He gets it. He went too far with Tarquin. But that spell was something he knew no one in that school had ever seen, so to be so afraid of him now didn't seem right. If anything, they should all be thanking him.

But it wasn't to be. Even the professors no longer treated him with their usual favoritism as finals drew closer and closer. His usual smiles and facades no longer worked on them. Whitlocke didn't greet him when he came to class before everyone else. When his potions turned out with the same high quality as before, Slughorn would simply say, "This will do," and move on.

Professor Merrythought's class was the worst by far. He was no longer allowed to practice with other students and was set to read books on defensive theory while everyone else struggled to master new spells. His detentions were the most boring part of his week. He wasn't allowed to use magic as he was made to paint each and every staircase again. It was especially awful on the staircase that Tarquin was bombarded with Dungbombs on.

Of course, Tom still practiced on the dummies in the Room of Requirement but even when Piper did join him, which they did less than normal, they usually practiced in their own corner or read without saying a word. Tom didn't dare try to rile them up for a duel. Tom understood Piper's displeasure but he still didn't feel sorry for what happened. He did what he intended. He didn't know Tarquin was going to be pelted by dungbombs. He thought it was just going to be a duel on the stairs, which of course he knew would be dangerous but Tom knew of spells to slow them down should either of them fall. And Tom didn't cast the spell that sent Tarquin headfirst into a staircase.

Tom eventually got used to everyone else treating him like the plague and kept his head down until things started to return to normal the week before finals. Tom did as he always did and spent his extra time in the Room of Requirement with Piper, who was now talking to him on the unspoken condition of helping them study for their exams. Tom spat out his pumpkin juice when they began to read back Slughorn's notes on the Forgetfulness Potion while transformed into a perfect copy of the rotund man. When Piper started laughing as well, Tom felt like things were finally starting to swing his way again. This compounded when he bumped into Tarquin on his way to Transfiguration to take his last final exam for the year. Tom dropped his bag and a couple books fell out. Before Tom could grab them, Tarquin knelt to do so and after handing them back, he nodded and entered the classroom.

As he waited for everyone else to finish the written portion, Tom stared at the back of Tarquin's head, searching for even the slightest imperfection in the boy's otherwise perfect hair, and wondered if he might have healed too much of the damage. There had been no gossip of him seeking his own revenge and Tom heard rumor that he had dissolved his group of Gryffindor pranksters the day after he woke up in the Hospital Wing. Maybe Albus was right about Tarquin having been on his way to the veil already and that being brought back changed the boy. While he didn't show off like he used to, Tarquin's spellwork was becoming formidable in every class and when they got their grades the day after their Transfiguration exam, Tom heard from Piper that he was third behind Tom and Tula with Piper and a Hufflepuff girl Tom didn't know tied for fourth in their class.

Everything seemed settled and Tom was unwillingly beginning to pack all of his things when Piper tapped him on the shoulder and stated, "Hey, Dumbledore's got this thing going on in the Great Hall. You missed the announcement when you were down for the count. He asked me to come get you, something about a couple people he wants you to meet." Tom nodded and took their hand as he stood up and left the Slytherin Common room.

When they entered the Great hall, Tom saw a spectacular use of practical magic to showcase a variety of occupations. The Daily Prophet was doing a small presentation on the value of sources. The Ministry had a booth for every major department from The Auror's Office and Magical Games and Sports all the way to the Department of Magical Transportation, which had set up a small booth about mishaps involving something called the Floo Network. By far the largest attended area was the International Association of Quidditch, which Tom saw was being operated by a few very beautiful, athletic men and women. One woman in gold and green robes had a long scar that ran down the length of her arm which she was showing off to a group of girls from every house to much applause.

The booth that caught Tom's eye the most however, which he walked over to after Piper said they wanted to go check out the Auror office booth, was the one for St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. A group of men and women in white and red robes were taking turns hexing and counterspelling a shockingly lifelike test dummy. It would scream and cry before the proper counterpsell was cast and as he stood there watching them rid the dummy's face of an assortment of bat-wing sprouting boils, Albus Dumbledore walked up behind him and said, "Of all booths to transfix you, Tom. For the first time, you have surprised me." Tom turned around to see Albus smiling down at him as the professor continued, "When they are done, one of them would like to meet you. Then, I do believe you have an interview with Ms. Powall."

Tom looked at Albus and asked, "Sir, I know that you said that Hogwarts was closed over summer. Is there any way you could make an exception for me?"

Albus gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and said, "Oh, I think not, Tom. Leaving you the run of the place would likely result in catastrophe. But I am glad you asked. We will discuss this later. For now, I must introduce…"

As Albus was talking, a young woman in a white and red robe with long brown hair and baby blue eyes walked over and asked pointedly, "Is this him, Professor?"

Albus turned to her and replied, "Ah, yes. And no need to still call me Professor. Tom Riddle, I am delighted to introduce you to Alice Ratcliffe. Alice this is Tom Riddle. A fellow Slytherin."

Alice, who was only a few inches taller than Tom, narrowed her eyes and said, "He's got a darkness to him… I like it. Can't be a good healer unless you've got a bit of that in your veins. I hear you brought a kid back to life by burning him alive. Not the best method I've heard but if it's effective, who am I to judge." Tom gave a hesitant laugh before she continued, "Want to be a healer, Tom? I also hear you're the best in your class with spells. Any auror can cast a counter-jinx or hold their own against the Imperius Curse. But it takes real talent to be a healer. And cunning. A trait those in our house all share."

Tom looked at her for a while and blurted, "Is it challenging?"

Alice looked up at Dumbledore in amazement and glee and retorted, "Is it a challenge, the boy asks." She grabbed Tom by the wrist and dragged him up to the stage in front of a slowly growing group of students. Tom again heard the indiscernible whispers in the crowd. He doesn't want to be up here. Why did she have to bring me…

Alice's voice rang out and halted his train of thought, "Time for the finale of our little show, students of Hogwarts. Young Tom wants to know if it is hard being a Healer. I would like to remind you all of what it says in the pamphlets we gave out at the beginning. Not only do you have to receive a N.E.W.T in every core subject, but the training process is quite rigorous. Behold, an example."

Alice spun the dummy around on its stool and before their eyes all of the damage caused by the healers during their presentation faded away. But not for long as Alice took out her long, tan wand and cast, "Somnus Aeternus!" A jet of almost translucent fog emitted from her wand and just after the dummy 'breathed' it in with their nose, it keeled off the stool and fell face first onto the stage with a loud thud. Everyone in the Great Hall whirled around and Tom looked up at Alice in confusion. She pointed down at the dummy as she answered his wordless query, "Your challenge awaits, Tom Riddle. First, tell me what spell I cast. Next, tell me what signs tell you it is this spell. Then, tell me the proper casting technique and incantation for its counter-curse. And finally, perform said countercurse. Do this, and I will give you every Galleon I currently have on me." She then leans forward and whispers in his ear, "I'll also put in a good word for you to intern with Hogbin, if you like."

Tom's ears perked up as he wondered if challenges like these were regular at St. Mungo's. None of his current classes were hard enough to keep his attention, but that was because he was already reading through Goshawk's third year spellbook halfway through the year. He also had to admit that he always felt a little better after turning Piper back to their normal form after trying out a new spell on them. One that wouldn't work on the inanimate dummies in the Room of Requirement.

Tom shook Alice's hand and everyone backed up and watched as he kneeled close to the dummy and began to examine it. Taking note of how it continued to breathe, how its eyes shifted back and forth, whether the lids were open or closed, and how its limbs seemed to twitch at the slightest touch, Tom formed an idea in his head. It had to be some kind of sleeping spell he hadn't seen before. He knew the roots of both parts of the incantation meant something about sleep, and something about forever. He had only read about it once but the effects seem similar to that of the Draught of Living Death. Which only had one cure.

Tom searched through his bag to see if he still had it, but he didn't and looked to Alice and inquired, "Do you have Wiggentree Bark?" Alice raised an eyebrow and reaching into a shallow pocket of her robes, she pulled out just what he needed. Almost everyone in the hall was now watching as Tom rolled over the dummy's body, which felt to Tom like it had a beating heart and skin, and placed a thin piece of the Wiggentree Bark between its clamped teeth. Tom had no idea what he was doing but that didn't stop him as he stood up, pulled out his own wand and for just a moment he considered trying the Tears of Life spell again but reconsidered when he remembered having to learn how to walk again in the Hospital Wing. Instead, he pointed at the dummy's head and closed his eyes as he tried his best to want to bring the dummy out of its slumber and cast, "Rennervate."

Nothing happened for almost a minute as everyone stood in silent anticipation. But then, the dummy suddenly stood and faced Tom to bend straight over at the waist into a deep bow with his head unnaturally touching his knees and coming up with an even more unsettling smile at Tom. The entire room erupted into an applause Tom didn't expect, which included both Albus and Alice behind him. Tom felt a new pride he never felt when he cast curses; it was like an amplification of what he felt when he would reverse the spells he cast on Piper.

Tom turned with a shit eating grin to Alice and said, "You cast a variant of a sleeping spell on it. Based on the roots, I assumed it is one that induces unending sleep. Such sleep, based on the eye movement, slight twitches, and relative limpness of the limbs, is evidence that this spell puts them in a state of deep sleep. Like the stage in which most dream." Alice's smile widened. It was intoxicating and Tom too gave a wide, genuine smile as he bowed and shook Alice's hand while the other held out a sizable sack of coins.

Tom thought she was joking but after the crowd dispersed and she handed out a few pamphlets to students who were now interested in being a Healer, she came back to Tom on the stage and said, "That's 200 galleons, kid. Use it well. I'll stick to my word. If you want to come and work for us, the best way is to get some practice in now. What you did may have been a bit of luck and talent, but when you come to work with us, I want you to know how to really reverse that spell. It's becoming a favorite of Grindelwald's cronies. That bark might have been a good idea if I gave him the Draught, which is I'm sure what you were thinking. In this case, it didn't do jack. Should I talk to old Hogbin or were you just in it for fame and fortune?"

Alice raised her right eyebrow again as she sat down on the stool and waited for Tom to answer. He stood in front of her for a while as he thought it out before finally answering, "You know, it did feel good to be cheered on. But I liked the challenge of the assignment even more. I know I got it wrong. But the result was the same either way, right? Isn't that what matters most."

Alice smiled and sighed before rebutting, "In your third year, you're going to learn about werewolves and the wolfsbane potion. That's when you'll see why immediate results don't matter. Or, you could just wait another… 3… 2… 1…"

Right when her countdown ended, the dummy that had been standing at attention just behind a curtain in their booth fell over with another loud thud. Tom walked over and looked behind the curtain to see that it had indeed fallen right back into its deep slumber. When Tom walked back over to Alice, she said, "When the counterspell for the Stunning Charm is used on a patient afflicted with the Curse of Eternal Sleep, the patient takes on the features of the disease muggles call Narcolepsy. That dummy, until I properly right it, will go back and forth from sleep to awake every few minutes. Which will be quite annoying, so, if you would excuse me, I'm going to go do just that. It was nice to meet you, Tom. I'll speak with Hogbin before I head back to St. Mungo's."

Without another word, she stood up from her stool and pulled the curtains closed behind her so that not even Tom could see what was going on. His confusion didn't last long as he felt a tap on the shoulder and saw the smiling face of Claire Powall as he turned around and she said, "That's rough, buddy. She's right though. Counter-charms are quite the beast as well. Some curses don't have a proper known counter either. She's seen her fair share, I bet."

Tom faked a smile back with his hand out to shake and said, "Yeah. She taught me more in that moment than I've learned from every book I've read so far."

Claire shook his hand and said, "Also, sorry to hear you were in the Wing for so long. I won't pry, no matter how interesting the story would be of a single spell that knocked out the great Tom Riddle. Are you still up for our interview?"

Tom nodded and sat on the stool as Claire conjured one of her own and beckoned over her photographer, a remarkably handsome man with hazel eyes and short red beard that matched his hair. She began while her pad and quill took notes as it floated in mid-air, "So, Tom. This year has been your first in the magical world. What do you know about your parents? Did they possess magic of their own?"

Tom was struck by a deep pain in his chest, which he tried his hardest to hide, as he remembered seeing the older, colder version or himself. Remembered the bodies of his father and grandfather. The red glint. Tom shook it off and answered with another fake smile, "I was raised in a muggle, orphanage so I don't know my family. When Albus came to pick me up the first time, I did overhear them talking about my mother, so it is possible she was magical. As for my father, I… I don't even know his name."

Tom hoped he was telling the truth in that moment. He desperately wanted his dreams to be just dreams and that his father's name wasn't also Tom. Claire didn't seem to notice either way as she continued while also giving non-verbal directions to her photographer, "Interesting, interesting. A muggle orphanage. Professor Dumbledore making a house call, no less. How… Interesting. How did you first experience magic there? Surely someone as young as you, with the talents you have, must have been bursting at the seams with unintentional magic. Did they ever notice?"

Tom nodded and, careful with his words, answered, "I noticed when I was 5. It started with just making my sheets move in my room or making the candles go on and off in the Orphanage. But by the time Albus came, I could make animals do things. I could dress myself without my hands. I knew I was special."

Claire's eyebrow raised for just a moment but Tom caught it and she said, "Control is not a thing often seen in young wizards. Hence why they get wands so early. It is hard to focus magical power without one, but not impossible. Do you think your early curiosity is why you have come to grasp it so well at Hogwarts?"

Tom nodded again and responded "Probably, but it's also thanks to the professors here and my friend Piper. If not for them and our place to practice, I probably wouldn't be as far ahead as I am."

Claire smiled and said, "I see. When Corra and I were here together, she was the genius and I was the friend too… Last…"

Tom stopped her short, "No, it isn't like that with Piper and I. They are just as good as I am, they just don't show off like I do. They make it a point to only use it when it really matters."

Claire smiled wider and gushed, "The humble genius. I like this story even more. Last question before I let you, 'show off', as you say. It is quite early into your days at Hogwarts, but do you already have an idea what field you want to go into, now that you have seen a good sample of what the magical world has to offer?"

Tom scratched his chin for a moment before answering, "I'm not sure, Claire. Thankfully, the skills I've practiced are useful in many jobs. I did like the challenge, which I'm sure you saw Alice give me. She taught me in just the right way and to learn under someone like her again would be great."

Claire smiled a little wider as they said, "I don't like your ambiguity but in this case it makes you all the more interesting. Now, what spell do you have to give to my lovely photographer?"

Tom thought for a moment, discarding a spell his own creation and instead chose to cast, "Orchideous." After a shower of pink and purple sparks, a bouquet of light blue and white orchids appeared at the tip of his wand and landed in his outstretched hand as he gave them to Claire. It had the desired effect as she immediately began to clap and lightly blush at the gift. The photographer got every shot from a side angle and gave him a thumbs up.

Claire held onto the flowers as they said their goodbyes, promising to return and do a follow-up when Piper came up to him and said, "Come on, let's go wait in the common room while they set up for the feast." When they got to the common room, most of the students were sitting on their trunks and waiting to go to the last event of the year, the end of term feast. Despite them having lost 200 points for joining in with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs hazing and torture of Tarquin D'auferio, Ravenclaw was in the lead. As such, most of the people in the room were apathetic towards the feast.

After a half hour, Professor Slughorn came down into the common room with a faint smile and said, "Alright, everyone, time for the feast. Then I'll escort you down to the grounds so Professor Picard can escort you to the station. This has been…" His eyes passed over Tom for just long enough for him to know he was the subject as Slughorn continued, "... an interesting year, to say the least. I am proud to say my first Slug Club party went off without a hitch or hiccup. And while we didn't win the Cup this year, our Quidditch team fought with valor. We'll get them next year…"

A sable-skinned boy Tom didn't recognize piped up as he slid his Quidditch goggles up to rest atop his short, black hair, "Yeah… and my Reds will win the Firs' vis year." Everyone in the room turned to look at the boy in confusion, and nearly a minute passed before he clarified, "I'm an 'alf-blood, you shits. It's the mugg-oo spor' foo'ball."

Still confused but not willing to indulge him, everyone, including Tom who did know about Liverpool FC but didn't care for the sport, turned back to Slughorn as he continued, "Gryffindor can't keep the title forever. Next year is our year; Scrogs and Peele are graduating, and their backup beaters are daft. We'll get it. Now, let's go to the feast." Tom and the rest of the Slytherins followed Slughorn as they all filed into their seats in the Great Hall and the professor joined the head table after clapping both Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet on the backs.

After a few minutes of waiting for everyone to settle down, Armando Dippet raised a hand and the room fell silent immediately as he began to speak, "Another year, my dear students. Another year. Interesting in the most fortunate and unfortunate of ways. The blatant torture of a student by his peers. An unforgivable stain on our school's reputation. One which will not soon be forgotten." Dippet looked down at the student body of Hogwarts with more disdain than Tom had ever seen. Unlike Albus and himself, Tom knew Dippet was not one to hide his intentions behind a smile. But seeing Dippet look at them all, Tom wondered if the headmaster was looking for him specifically and was thankful when he wasn't singled out.

After surveying them all for what felt like a year, Professor Dippet continued, "But for all of our blunders, we have also witnessed the rise of a new kind of magic, heretofore unseen at this school, dare I say it, since Professor Dumbledore himself attended. Gryffindor House won its 4th Quidditch Cup in a row, thanks to spectacular Beating performances from Messrs. Poole and Scrogs in what I believe will go down as the most exciting Quidditch Final since Puddlemere United swiped a comeback from my dear Pride of Portree in 1891. Alas, on the whole. A good year. And now, the awards for the House Cup."

The room became especially quiet as Professor Dippet sighed heavily and stated, "In 4th place, with 217 points, Slytherin House." No one stirred but Tom could feel every eye on him as he sat there, guilty of being part of the group that lost them 400 points and likely the house championship. Dippet continued, "In third place, with 341 points, Hufflepuff." Small cheers from the Hufflepuff table lingered for only a few seconds before Dippet raised his hand and everyone knew it was time. Dippet looked down at his dais and announced, "In second place, with 411 points… Gryffindor House."

The entire room erupted into cheers and Dippet bellowed over them with vigor, "Which leaves first place, with an astounding 597 points, Ravenclaw House." Tom and Piper looked at each other with their hands cupping their ears as everyone except the Gryffindors cheered for a few minutes before Dippet raised his hands once more and declared, "And so concludes the school year. For all those graduating, myself and everyone on the staff look forward to your success in the world of magic. To those returning to us, I look forward to seeing you all again after the summer holidays. Be safe. I bid you all a great holiday."

Ravenclaw house chanted as they all left the hall and followed their respective prefects back to the dorms. Tom followed the Slytherins all the way to the stairs to the dungeons before breaking off and making his way to classroom 1B, behind which was Professor Dumbledore's office. Tom hadn't even taken one foot into the classroom before he saw Albus sitting in a tall chair, nursing a small glass of a pearlescent liquid, and the man said, "I am glad today was not the day for you to prove me wrong, Tom."

Tom hesitantly walked a little farther and Albus said, "I believe we have things left to discuss before the term is under. First, I would like to congratulate you for keeping your position at the top of the class. No doubt Piper's notes helped you from falling too far behind to make it up. Second, I have wondered these months since Christmas if you have had any more nightmares regarding the wizarding couple and the Killing Curse."

Tom fidgeted as he stood in front of Dumbledore, unsure if the truth was the correct path forward. He gave in, knowing the professor would likely see through any lie and said, "I… I did. Not of the couple, but of another. But… I don't think I am ready to talk about it, though. It… It still hurts and I don't want to see it again by talking about it."

To Tom's surprise, Albus smiled and said, "That is perfectly alright, Tom. In time, I hope you will be able to trust me with this information and we can work out the mystery and solve it together. My last point of business is one I have been unexpectedly forced to re-examine since your duel with Tarquin. It regards your going home to Wool's Orphanage for the summer. What do you think will happen if you return to the world of muggles?"

Tom sat on the edge of a nearby desk and said without hesitation, "Wool's was never my home. I would likely hurt someone the same way I hurt Tarquin. And Billy."

Albus's smile widened even more as he responded, "But the remorse of those acts does not factor in. Interesting. I agree with you Tom. I do think a regression would be likely. I could be wrong, but I think that place, while not abusive, was like gasoline to your inner fire. To that end, I was planning a way for you, and other orphans like you, to stay on at Hogwarts, under strict supervision, for the summer holiday in the same way students may stay for the Christmas holiday. As I am sure you have already pieced together, your actions tarnished my will to give you such respite from the… mundanity of the muggle world.

"However, as we have just discussed and confirmed for each other, you would no doubt regress, and possibly go even further, into the darker practices of magic in order to do what you will also no doubt rationalize to be a form of defense. So, I am stuck. I have one question, similar in form and function to the one I asked in the Hospital Wing: If I allow you to stay, what will you use that time to do?"

Tom's heart began to race as he thought of all the spells and reading he could do if he had two months to himself. He would miss Piper, but being able to be in the library and freely indulge his curiosity sounded like the greatest gift of all. Tom blurted out his answer, "I'd probably just spend it all reading in the library since no one else will be there."

Albus continued to smile as he said, "I thought that would be your answer. No doubt you would also spend it exploring the castle. However, I do have events planned for this summer, should you be interested in staying. I have already received affirmation from every other student I have asked. Because of your incident, I felt it best to ask you when I have seen credible progress. What is your answer, Tom?"

Tom's thoughts sped faster than he could keep up with. Wondering if there was a catch. Which students did he ask first? Would he be barred from the Room of Requirement? What 'things' did Albus have planned? None of them mattered and Tom nodded his head as he affirmed, "Staying here would be swell, Albus."

End of Book 1: Lights and Lacunae


End file.
